Day 3: From The Vaults of Heaven
by DavidB226Morris
Summary: This is your last chance people. Final chapter is up, and reviewing has been scarce. Show your love--- or I may never do the sequel. Time is of the essence, you know...
1. 6:00 AM TO 7:00 AM

Day 3: From The Vaults of Heaven: A 24-Alias Crossover

By DavidB226Morris

Summary: It's 20 months after Day 2. Sydney Bristow works for CTU and Jack Bauer works for APO. CTU Is working in conjunction to make sure the signing of an important anti-ballistic missile treaty goes off. Little do they know that protecting President Palmer will be the least of their problems. It's going to be another one of those days.

Rating: Probably closer to R for violence and extreme language.

Disclaimer: Jack Bauer, President David Palmer and the rest of the team at CTU belong to Joel Surnow and all the staff at Real Time Productions. Sydney Bristow, Nadia Santos and any other characters from Alias who pop up are the property of J.J. Abrams and all the geniuses who worked on Alias. I continue to borrow them, with lower investment rates.

Argument: All right, this shouldn't be that hard to follow. This is a sequel to my piece Day 2 Reloaded, and the bridge piece, "The Space Between." For those of you who missed them, enjoy. 

In the present: Sydney is working at CTU: Sydney is Director of Technical Operations, Tony, Michelle and Chloe are also all working at CTU, more or less in the same positions that they held in the original Day 3. APO still exists under the supervision of Jack Bauer. As for relationships, Sydney and Vaughn have been married eighteen months, and Jack Bauer and Nadia are engaged. 

Two more things, and then we will get this story started: President Palmer and the people surrounding him will be playing a bigger role in this story, and the characters I mentioned aren't going to be the only figures from either series showing up. 

For the record, Kim Bauer will be handled in this story the way her development went in the series—she was never stupid, just a teenager. By day 3, she even passed for competent against Sylar—um, Adam. Here, the process of her emotional development is speeded up so there are NO cougar moments.

All right. The clock is running

Chapter 1

**The Following Takes Place Between 6:00 A.M. and 7:00 A.M.**

The shadows of night still covered much of California, and a good portion of the state was still asleep. Certainly the few people in the small hub that surrounded Cayuga, a small town basically built around a commercial airstrip in the Santa Susana mountains, was mostly still in their beds. Two of the town's restaurants were opening for the early shift, the box factory that made up a good part of Cayuga's industry was being opened by the local security guard, and of course a handful of the graveyard shift at the airstrip, at but that was basically it. Even the paperboy hadn't yet had his breakfast.

So less than a handful of people were up when the dark blue Cessna lowered its landing gear, and began to radio the tower. And of those people, only the two men in the tower noticed that something might be amiss.

Lewis looked at the radar. "That's an awful big plane up there, Marty," he told his partner.

"We've been working together here five years, and yet I'm constantly amazed at your powers of observation," Marty replied.

"I'm being serious here. The plane's nearly twice the size of the compacts we usually get," Lewis pointed out, "it's practically large enough to be a jet."

"Don't be an idiot, Lew, if it were a jet it would have had to radio in ten minutes ago." Marty paused. "Still, you are right, it is a big mother. And according to this," he picked up the clapboard, "it's not on today's schedule."

"An unscheduled jumbo," Lewis said. "Well, it ain't like this field runneth over with traffic." He got on the radio. "This is Cayuga Air Field. You are cleared to begin your decent on Landing Field A."

"Roger that," the radio said, "this is Flight two-nine-six beginning its descent."

On average, Cayuga saw a plane every three days, and the majority of them were small private planes built for three or four people. This plane was nearly big enough to be a private jet, and was big enough to hold three dozen passengers--- the kind that generally lands at commercial airfields. Some more astute controller might have questioned this aircraft appearance as suspicious, but neither of the two controllers had enough experience to know this.

And what nobody at Cayuga Air Field knew was that while they were giving these instructions in the tower, others were listening in.

"Wait a minute, this looks like it could be it," Vaughn told the other man in the car. 

"I hope so," Dixon. responded. "Otherwise this whole stakeout would be a waste of time."

He took out his binoculars and tried to look through the slowly brightening sky for the aircraft that was going to be landing. "I've gotta tell you, Vaughn, this whole assignment isn't doing wonders for my comfort level. We're a black-ops unit, what the hell are we doing on domestic soil?"

Vaughn gave a small smile. "You know, you could just ask your girlfriend," he said coolly.

"I don't think that Director Chase would be happy that particular information is widely known." Dixon smiled despite himself.

"You want me to tell my wife that?" Vaughn replied.

"Seriously, there are at least a half dozen other agencies that are far more qualified and have more manpower to do this kind of surveillance and identification. Why did we draw the short straw?"

"Probably because every other security group in the country is watching what's going on in LA right now," Vaughn replied. "We're one of the few units that are still operating at full strength "

"Yeah, but full strength for us isn't a quarter of what even a part of the government's other agencies could bring to the party," Dixon argued. "I mean, if these people really are on the inter-agency watch-list, we should have this airfield surrounded, rather than backed up by only three other field units. At the very least, those damn fool controllers should know what the hell they might be waving into the country."

"Did you express any of these reservations to Jack?"

"I did," Dixon admitted. "He said, according to Division and District, they need a low-profile team to gather intel on a major terrorist group, which is practically this unit's trademark." Dixon paused. "However, he was pretty sure that someone went over Director Chase's head to get us assigned to this." 

Vaughn didn't like this at all. Whenever someone higher up in the hierarchy of the agency had pulled rank on them over the two years, there was an excellent chance that they were being set up. Unfortunately, before he could voice this argument, the runway lights on the air strip went on. According to the radio, the plane was at five hundred feet and on its final approach 

"Looks like our job can't wait any longer," he said. Clicking on the radio. "Attention all field units, target is about to begin landing."

**6:06:33/6:06:34/6:06:35**

"Ladies and gentlemen of the press, the captain has informed me that we will be landing in Los Angeles in the next fifteen minutes," Lynn Kresge said over the loudspeaker. "Upon landing there will be a short conference at which both the President and our Congressional delegation will be briefly available before we travel to the Western White House. Until then, the pilot asks that you fasten your seatbelts and turn off all cell phones and other electronic equipment."

"All right, I'll tell him about this," Mike Novick said into his cell, "but the President doesn't respond well to being put into this position. And, to be frank, I'm not thrilled with it either." He terminated the call, and walked back to the central cabin, where he knew the President would be looking over the final copies of his speech.

When he entered, however, he found that the President was standing in front of the window, watching the sunrise. Not for the first time, the President's chief of staff noticed how much older his friend had become over the past three years. But then, he was well aware of the effect the Presidency had on the men who served in it.

"You get any sleep, Mr. President?"

A smile played on David Palmer's mouth. "You should know better than to ask a question like that, Mike," he said quietly. "There aren't enough hours in the day to get the rest I'd need to do this job."

"How exactly are you holding up, sir?"

"Well, I have to stand witness to the signing of a major anti-ballistic missile treaty between Russia and China," the President began, only half-seriously. "Then I have to meet with some of the people who are very disappointed with this term, and convince them I haven't sold them down the river, and then I have to announce that I'm running for re-election." Now the smile disappeared. "And I have to convince myself I'm not doing all this while walking over Sherry's grave. So, no my mood is not congenial."

"All due respect, Mr. President," Mike said, "I never understood why you wanted the treaty signed here. Camp David would have been far less of a headache, geographically and spiritually."

There was another silence. "I haven't been back to Los Angeles since the day Sherry was killed," the President began. "Even if the world does understand the reason, I can't afford to waste what little capital I have in the biggest state in the union."

"That's what you've told the press. I was hoping you'd give a friend a better one."

"I was hoping you wouldn't notice." The President walked over to one of the chairs and sat down. "I don't sleep well for a lot of reasons, Mike, and I'm smart enough know that most of my demons come back to Sherry. I know that I didn't bear any responsibility for her numerous betrayals, but in my soul, I know that if I done something, any number of things after I divorced her, she wouldn't have had to turn away from everything she once held dear. There's no academic reason for me to feel this way, but I think doing some immense good in a place where a great sin occurred, perhaps I can exorcise a few demons; maybe I'll sleep a little better. " 

The President considered his words. "Now that I've said it aloud, it makes me sound rather selfish, doesn't it?"

Mike gave a small smile. "Mr. President, you're one of the most self-sacrificing people I've ever met," he said honestly. "If anything, I think you're entitled to a little selfishness."

President Palmer considered this. "I'm not sure whether I'm being complimented or insulted," he said with a small grin.

"I think you know me well enough to know what that was."

"I also know you well enough to be aware that you didn't come in here to take my mental temperature." The President took a more business-like attitude. "Do we have a problem?"

"You do," Mike admitted, "but since it's political rather than international, I think we can handle it after we're on the ground,"

"This trip is political, in case you've forgotten," the President pointed out.

"There's going to be a lot happening today, Mr. President. Right now we need to focus on the press."

When the aircraft had landed at Cayuga, thirty-nine passengers deplaned. Furthermore, nearly half of them were clearly Asian--- a rather unusual disparity for any non-commercial flight. Had someone from a more upscale security agency been there, warning bells would have started to go off.

But there was only one security guard for the Cayuga airstrip, the paperwork for the plane, the pilot and the passengers were in order, and the guards shift was supposed to have ended ten minutes ago. So he did what so many people did in similar situations---- he passed the buck to the next shift.

"So much for getting a hand from security, " Dixon told Vaughn. "Let's just hope that they don't have a bus waiting to pick them up."

By now the sky was half lit with the sunrise, so Vaughn took out the photo-capturing device that Marshall had provided them with, and began to capture their images on a digital camera. "All units begin data imaging process. Begin computerized identification scan, as many as you can as fast as you can."

**6:18:12/6:18:13/6:18:14/6:18:15**

"What do you mean, you still haven't got a hold of Homeland Security readings for the last hour?" Chloe O'Brian said into the phone. "I don't care that you've been backed up on the background checks, Air Force One is going to land any minute and when they find out we don't have any locations for the names on the Chinese terrorist watch list, they're going to be more pissed than I am!"

Because Sydney Bristow had spent the better part of her career in intelligence dealing with a particularly scattered tech support agent, she was probably far more tolerant of Chloe's personality than anybody else. She was also probably the only one who was capable of massaging the mixture of quirks that made up their Internet Protocol Manager. So, before either Tony or Michelle could intervene and push the wrong buttons (and frankly, figuring out which buttons were the wrong ones could be a daily thing) she walked over to Chloe.

"Give me the phone," she told her.

"I can handle this," Chloe insisted.

"I know you can. Unfortunately, we're still going to need your husband's help before the day is over, so could you _please _let me handle this?"

Chloe did so with only a modicum of resistance.

"Hello, Morris, this is Sydney." There was a pause. "I believe we've established in previous conversations that calling your superior 'love' is not the appropriate address." Sydney could feel Morris wilting across the circuit board. "That's better. Now, by my best estimation, you have less then twenty minutes before the inter-agency security briefing. You can utilize your time in one of two ways: you can either gather all of the necessary intelligence so that CTU is prepared about the major Chinese insurrection groups, or you can start retooling your resume, because if you can't accomplish the former, I will kick you so far out on your ass, that you'll be back to working in women's retail. Are we crystal clear on this?" 

"Um, um, absolutely, Miss Bristow—Mrs. Vaughn—yes," Morris managed to get out.

"What are you waiting for, a written invitation?" 

Morris hung up.

"I was perfectly capable of handling that myself," Chloe said. "But thanks for scaring the shit out of my husband."

Sydney looked at Chloe. "I'm guessing that the bloom is off the rose with your marriage?" she asked rhetorically.

"Well, that makes the assumption there was ever a bloom to begin with," Chloe said with her usually pensive look. "Sydney, what exactly is it that you and your sister have that I don't?"

"You mean aside from dark hair and treason inherited from our mother's side of the family?" Sydney said bluntly.

"You know what I mean," Chloe pressed. "You're married to Vaughn and you've got a kid, Nadia's going to marry to Jack, hell Michelle and Tony'll probably get married soon enough; you all work in the same profession, hell, the same building in most cases, and you manage to keep it all together on and off the job. Morris and I can barely manage to be civil to each other from across town."

Though she managed to maintain a poker face, Sydney was a little shocked by Chloe's sudden openness. She thought that she was one of the woman's few friends on the job, and Chloe went to great lengths to keep from talking to her about her problems, work-related or otherwise. Something was definitely wrong in the O'Brian household to bring this on. Unfortunately, as much as she wanted to follow this train wherever it went, this was absolutely the worst possible time to be talking about personal stuff.

As if to confirm this, Michelle walked over to the other women, and demanded: "Sydney, where are we on the watch-list?" 

Sydney wasn't surprised that Chloe responded so fast. "We have five in custody, and are monitoring three more: Tzu Chen was spotted in Madrid, Lee Yuen was seen in London, and Vladimir Ilich was caught on a security monitor entering Toronto."

"That leaves three names: Cheng Zhymou, Martine De Boris and Li Chin Wang." Michelle summarized. 

"They've been harder to track," Sydney admitted. "We expect confirmation from Homeland Security within the next half-hour, but all three have been off the radar for the past two weeks. Our friends at NSA have been monitoring the some of the backchannels; I'm scheduled to go through their data stream in the next ten minutes."

Michelle nodded. "All right. Get on that, and then have Chloe forward it to the main room in ten minutes. The President wants to be briefed as soon as the initial press conference is finished."

**6:25:39/6:25:40/6:25:41**

When he had taken Arvin Sloane's position as head of APO, and to help try and put the pieces of their lives back together, Jack Bauer had offered his daughter an internship working tech support while she finished the Los Angeles GED exam. Kim had wanted to try and put the pieces back together as much as her father did, and APO was a chance for a (relatively) clean slate. 

It had become clear pretty quickly that she had an aptitude for the computer skills and for many of the other intricacies that made up a good counterintelligence work, and though she was only seventeen, most of the people at APO had recommended her to begin the process that would lead to her becoming a full-fledged agent in roughly the amount of time it would take for her to graduate college. Jack had been a little more reluctant to sign off on that, but Sydney and Nadia had advocated for her, and he finally agreed.

Part of the main reason that she had agreed to do so was because she liked working with Marshall Flinkman, APO's resident tech expert, and arguably the smartest man she had ever met. He had recognized her genius early on, and had been a huge supporter of her. There was just one real problem working with him—you had to get used to the many quirks which irritated superiors but endeared him to his friends. These behavioral oddities were more than apparent when she walked into his office to ask him about something connected with the operation at Cayuga Air Field, and found him peering over his office with what looked like some kind of thermal imaging device.

"Oh, ah, " he started, taking off the headgear, "this isn't what it looks like."

"It couldn't possibly be," Kim said wryly.

"I mean I'm not using advanced CIA technology to try and look for, um, a crimson Tyrannosaurus Rex that I think I accidentally picked up while I was getting all my stuff together two hours ago when I came into the office, and, that was no picnic, because turning the lights on woke up Mitchell, and he started crying, which woke up Eric and _he _started crying, which woke up my wife, and _she _started crying, and now I think the future happiness of my marriage may rest on me finding—"

"This?" Kim said, picking up a plastic red dinosaur, which she had located attached to the dartboard that for some reason Marshall kept in his office, while he had gone on his verbal meandering.

"Oh, great, thanks Kim, I mean this is literally a lifesaver," he said, plucking it from Kim's hand. "How the heck did you find it?"

"In addition to being a highly qualified agent, I am also a very skilled babysitter," Kim reminded Marshall, "which you should know as I sat for Eric and Mitchell a week ago."

"I'm sorry," Marshall said walking back to his desk. "I'm just, I love my kids, I mean, I'd do anything for them, well, maybe not high treason, but man they can make a racket when they put their minds to it. I've gotten maybe six hours of sleep in the last three days."

"Thank God you work in a job where you don't need to tax your intellect that hard," Kim replied only half in jest.

Marshall looked around. "Are we having some problem with the video feed up at Cayuga?" he asked.

"No, that's working fine. The problem is with the database. Apparently, there were thirty-nine people on that aircraft, according to our surveillance, and so far, we only have identification of eleven."

"Any big players among them?" Marshall asked

"Four of them register on the Agency watch-list, as being tied to known terror groups in the Far East." Kim replied. "Problem is, our data on Chinese terrorists is still pretty scattered. My father's calling some of the Agency higher-ups to access for their terror list."

"So why come to me?"

"The other seven that we identified are known criminals who were arrested and charged for crimes while on foreign soil," Kim said. "This leads me to believe that the others on the airplane have criminal records too, only problem is that they're behind the Iron Curtain. We can't hack into Chinese intelligence files without the right people speaking for us."

"But there's no law saying that we can't tap into the Chinese penal records," Marshall said thoughtfully.

"I'd do it myself, but I'm not at a high enough clearance level, and I'm not up on my Chinese."

"Hang on one second." Marshall came out from around his desk. "Your father sign off on this?"

"Not officially, but I have a feeling if we find what we need, he'll be very understanding." Kim said, as they walked over to Marshall's computer.

Just at that moment, Kim's cell rang. "Kim Bauer," she said.

"It's Dixon. We've got a problem at the airfield."

"Have they made you?"

"I don't know, but a blue van pulled up to the far end of the runway, picked up eight or nine of them, and started to drive towards the western exit. There are only five other units here, and we don't want to begin surveillance without gathering suspicion."

By now, Kim had walked over to her station. "What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to re-task the nearest satellite to Cayuga, find out where that van's going, and map us the quickest back door so for a unit to shadow it." Dixon replied.

"I'm on it."

"And notify your father. If they've started to leave, that means the rest aren't going to be that far behind them. We need to have a plan once they've all left en masse."

**6:33:51/6:33:52/6:33:53/6:33:54**

Before the flight had taken off the previous night, President Palmer had made it clear that he would not be answering questions until they were at the Western White House and the remaining delegations, national and international, arrived. Because the press had an innate respect for David Palmer's treatment of the media, and because they were going to be covering the story all day, the White House Press Corps did not deluge the President with questions as he walked to his limousine. Unfortunately, the Republican members of the Congressional delegation did not play by the Marquis of Queensbury rules, and several of them—including the Chairman of the House Armed Services Committee—had no problem manipulating the press 

Mike had known that this was the way the President wanted to play this, but that didn't stop him from walking up to him and saying: "I told you that there were going to be problems bringing him along."

"He was going to be a problem, no matter what," the President said, as James Heller flashed one of his trademark grins at the handful of reporters that were surrounding him. "Besides, without his help I'd never have gotten the treaty out of Congress."

"Mr. President, he's the enemy."

"I've known James Heller for more than fifteen years," the President said as he ducked into the limo. "He's one of the country's great patriots. The fact that he's a Republican makes him the opposition, not the enemy."

"In an election year, they're one and the same and you know it," Mike said. "If you're not careful, he's going to use today to get himself a clean shot at your job."

"This isn't going to win a lot of the right kind of hearts and minds in Ames and Manchester, Mike," the President pointed out. "Besides, we're three months away from the first caucuses, and he's way behind Keeler in the polls."

"Still—"

"Mike, Heller's probably going to be a problem, but that's down the road. I've got enough to worry about with my own campaign today without concerning myself with helping his. Agreed?"

Mike nodded reluctantly, and got into the limo beside the President. 

"Lynn," the President told his other chief adviser, "are we ready for the security briefing?"

"Yes, Mr. President." Lynn said, as she turned towards the monitor in the middle of the limousine.

"Mr. President, this is Tony Almeida. You also have Michelle Dessler and Sydney Bristow on the line."

"Mr. Almeida, what do you have for us?"

"All right then, over the past two weeks, NSA and CIA have monitoring terrorist chatter," Tony began "There has been a minimum of chatter over the past week in regards to this conference --- until six hours ago, when we intercepted an encrypted communication from Shanghai to Seattle from Hsu Kar-Wai, a member of several radical Chinese groups, and known associate of Li Chen Wang, a member of the terrorist watch list, and one of the leaders of Scarlet Circle."

"They were responsible for a string off bombings across the Nanking province earlier this year," Sydney reminded the President.

"And it took you this long to crack the code?" Novick asked.

"The message was encrypted with a Z3 shifting algorithm," Tony said. "It's one of the hardest codes to break. When we finally we broke it, it read like something that had been translated from English to Chinese and then back to English. We were lucky that we managed to read it at all."

"What did the message say?" asked the President.

"That Wang was in the country, and that he was preparing to move a great number of men inside California for some kind of action today." Michelle said. 

"Do you have any more information?"

"Only that it was some multi-pronged attack and the first strike was to come some time in the next hour."

There was a pause as the people in the Presidential limo considered this. "President Suvarov and Premier En Lai are scheduled to land at the retreat within that timeframe," Novick pointed out. "Are you saying that they could be potential targets?"

"We can't rule it out, sir," Tony admitted. "And since both planes are currently within American airspace, we think that it might be advisable to scramble some F-18's from Landers Air Field."

"Can you get that done quick enough for it to mean anything?" the President countered. "For that matter, I'm pretty sure that their flight paths are known only to Russian and Chinese intelligence. It's going to take a lot of effort to get them to reveal this information based on what is a very vague threat assessment."

At this point Sydney, who had kept one eye on her computer screen, filtered through the hourly reports that she'd had Chloe filter through her screen. "Mr. President, I just received an hourly report from the local airfields. A little more than half an hour ago, a Cessna jumbo 7 landed at an airstrip in a town called Cayuga in the Santa Susana mountains."

"Where did it come from?" Kresge asked.

"We're not sure. "The port of origin was supposedly from Burbank, but Burbank has no listing of any aircraft of that size or class departing in the last twelve hours." 

"How big was the plane?" asked Tony

"Big enough to hold more than three dozen passengers," Sydney said. 

"Any bells or whistles set off by the passenger manifest?" asked Tony.

"Hold on a second," Sydney tapped some key in front of her. "None of the passenger names are on the watch-list, but there's evidence to suggest that the security guards there didn't perform due diligence, and may have just waved them in."

"You're telling me the FAA just let these people waltz out of the air?" Novick asked.

"Place is in the middle of nowhere," Sydney admitted. "My guess is there wasn't that much security to slip around."

"Great," Tony said sarcastically. "A hundred billion dollars spent on airline security, and we get screwed over because some hick from upstate wants to clock out early."

"Miss Bristow, where exactly is Cayuga?" the President asked

"Approximately ten miles from LA." Sydney replied, "which means they could be in the city limits right now."

**6:44:50/6:44:51/6:44:52**

It had taken four large vans to carry all of the passengers, but when the last one was arriving on the scene, the man who had made the first call received another one.

"You have been made," said the voice on the other end simply.

"How sure are you of this?" the caller asked.

"I'm texting the approximate locations of three vehicles that are around the airport right this minute."

The man with the cell took out a PDA, and his eyes narrowed when he saw it. 

"You know what needs to be done," the caller said before hanging up.

Vaughn got off the phone "They've gotten on top of the third van, which means as soon as this one leaves…"

He trailed off as he saw that Dixon was looking directly at the van. Unlike the previous three vehicles, passengers were not getting in it, but they were taking stuff out of it, and the stuff was definitely not Flowers by Mail.

Fortunately both the agents had quick reflexes. By the time the first Chinese terrorists started firing on their own car, both had jumped out of it, well before the assault rifle fire had shattered the windshield. 

Dixon and Vaughn managed to get to their own weapons out. The problem was, they were only carrying Glocks. The higher power assault weapons were still in the car, and right now, there was zero chance of getting to them.

"Mayday! Mayday!" Dixon shouted into his radio. "Agent Vaughn and I are pinned down by enemy fire at the southeast quadrant of the airstrip!" He tried to find cover as two of the terrorists fired upon him. "Send all available backup to meet us at the eastern edge of the airport!"

Vaughn knew that this was more whistling in the dark. Only five units had been dispatched to Cayuga Air Field. Two of them were now on the highway trying to trail two of the vans that had pulled out. The third could be anywhere between the highway and the airfield. That left them with only one other vehicle, on the northern side of the quadrant. And Vaughn could see that the van was headed in that direction with two more shooters inside, no doubt bent on eliminating them.

Someone had clearly ratted them out; this was too organized to be mere luck. Unfortunately, there was a very good chance that they were going to die before being able to warn them.

"The other backup vehicle been taken out!" Kim said, as she ran over to the monitor, hardly believing how quickly their well-planned operation was falling apart.

"Dixon sent out an emergency distress call. He and Vaughn have been caught in the web."

"This means we've only got one option left," Kim said, as she made the only call she could.

**6:51:07/6:51:08/6:51:09/6:51:10**

If the drivers in the van had wanted to kill the government agents, it would have been very easy for them to do so--- there were ten people from the plane still on the ground, and there were only five people from APO at the airstrip. But right now, killing the government agents was a secondary protocol: they were to wreck the airfield and meet up with their colleagues at the appointed position.

So, after dropping off four heavily armed fighters to dispatch the remaining agents, the van peeled off and headed towards the easternmost exit.

As soon as they were out of range, the man who had made all the communications that had gotten them this far dialed the last number on his speed-dial.

"What has gone wrong?" the voice on the other end said simply.

"We're safely away." the caller said simply, "but before we left, we learned that the government knew about our presence at the airfield."

"And?"

"We needed to leave four men behind to take them out and sanitize the location."

"So what you're telling me, Hsu, is that the government has been made aware of our presence in the country, and in order to escape, you sacrificed four men and had to scorch an airport," the voice said icily. "What part of 'keeping this low-profile' didn't you understand?"

"Sir, by now the rest of the people are in position----"

"I know how this is supposed to work," the voice is said in an even colder tone.  
"I spent a year designing this plan. Don't tell me you've fucked it up at zero hour! Just get to your location before the next phase is to begin. And Hsu," he added, "there will be a reckoning for your mistake."

With that the caller hung up.

Both Dixon and Vaughn saw the vehicle tear out, but could do nothing about it—they were pinned down by four terrorists armed with AZ7s. Two were sweeping to their immediate left; the others were heading down to their immediate right, and they were going to get hung between the blankets of fire.

"How many clips do you have?" Dixon demanded.

"Just one," Vaughn said simply. "I think our best chance is for one of us to make a break for it, kill one of the shooters on the left, and get their weapon and ammo!"

Dixon fired two of his shots at one of the terrorists on his left flank. One of them managed to wing him in the shoulder but he gave no sign of weakening. "Give me cover, and I'll give it a try!"

Vaughn would've argued, but they didn't have a time, and Dixon had more bullets than he did. He ducked behind one of the gates they had been parked near, and signaled for Dixon to move.

Like a star center, Dixon faked left and went right, firing three shots into the shoulder and stomach of one of the terrorists on his left flank. The other one pulled to the right and fired a stream of bullets at Dixon, who hit the dirt just in time.

Vaughn tried to shoot in three directions at once. He knew that he could off the remaining terrorist on his left flank with some trouble. However, pinning down the two coming on his other side would be next to impossible. Hopefully, Dixon would be get to an assault weapon and be able to lay down a stream of covering fire. That was a pretty big 'hopefully", but right now they needed luck to be on their side.

Vaughn put in his last clip, and fired three quick shots at the remaining terrorist. One of them managed to wing him, which gave Dixon long enough to grab the assault rifle. He managed to squeeze off a round of shots at the terrorists approaching Vaughn's other side, but this only slowed them it didn't stop them

_Come on, _Michael thought to himself, _where's the motherfucking cavalry?_

And it was at that instant that an Agency chopper flew over them and began to open a stream of covering fire. In less than ten seconds, the two terrorists on their left flank were both dead.

"Christ, Jack!" Dixon yelled out. "What were you waiting for: a written invitation?"

Jack Bauer could have given any number of answers: he chose the most succinct one. "Please don't tell me that there's one who got away!"

Vaughn had just gotten to his feet, when he saw that Jack's eyesight was good—the last remaining terrorist was running like hell. "Dixon!" he shouted, as the chopper lowered to the ground

Dixon was about to squeeze the trigger on the rifle when something happened that was only shocking in that hadn't happened five minutes earlier.

The plane that had carried all the terrorists here blew up.

Fortunately, the APO agents were on the other side of the airport when the explosion came. That was the only positive, though, as the bomb blew up half the control tower and part of another plane. The explosion of that killed the one remaining terrorist.

The problem with this job was it didn't give you any time to recover. "Vaughn, go through the bodies on the ground; I want pictures and fingerprints taken and sent back to APO! Dixon, get on the line with search and rescue; we need to get people shifting through the rubble now!"

As the two other agents got started, Jack took out his cell, and dialed one more number.

"Sydney," he said to his future-sister-in-law, "this is Jack."

There was a pause on the other end before Bristow said, "Why am I not surprised you're calling?" 

"I need you to get CTU ready for a major meeting. A lot of shit has just hit the fan, and I don't think we're anywhere close to finished. I think we're in for another long day."

At the other end, Sydney Bristow looked to Almeida and said, "Tony, it's one of those days again."

**6:59:57/6:59:58/6:59:59/7:00:00**


	2. 7:00 AM to 8:00 AM

**Chapter 2**

**The Following Takes Place Between 7:00 A.M. and 8:00 A.M.**

_Sepulveda Dam Recreation Area_

The first van that had left Cayuga nearly half an hour earlier had gotten into position first. Even though it was a critical part, it involved the fewest actual people-- only two terrorists were in the black van, and given the earliness of the hour, only a handful of people (other than a couple of security guards) were on hand. But right now casualties mattered far less than chaos, and this would do the job effectively.

So when the phone beeped, the driver knew what he had to do-- he waited until the liquid nitrogen was hooked up, nodded as his passenger got out of the vehicle, and then began to accelerate towards the dam.

Both the guards were somewhat surprised when the large black van came barreling down the street right at them. Only one's reaction time was quick enough for him to get out of the vehicles path. The other wasn't nearly as fortunate, and was smashed upward until he was impaled by the fence, with a broken neck.

The driver only noticed this in his peripheral vision. His main focus was on the dam directly ahead of him and as soon as he was past the guards, he floored the accelerator until he was doing eighty.

Then, in the split second before the van hit the stone siding of the dam, he hit the button that ignited the fuel.

The driver's fiery death was painful but quick. And he had done what had been asked of him -- a wall of water was now rushing out of the crevice that the he had made.

"All right, Jack," Tony said slowly. "We're all here. Now would you mind explaining to us what the hell is going on?"

"Recently, we received notification that there was a strong possibility that a group of Chinese nationals would be attempting to enter the country," Jack began.

"And they were attempting to enter through an airstrip in the Santa Susanna Mountains called Cayuga," Sydney said slowly.

Suddenly, there was a great overhang of tension in the air. "I'm guessing, um, you got the hourlies," Marshall said trying to break the tension.

"How many were there?" Michelle demanded.

"The final count was thirty-seven people." Jack said. "Our surveillance teams identified have so far matched eighteen of them from the Chinese database."

"Only seven were known terrorists," Kim spoke up, "but Marshall and I have been able to ID the other eleven as having extensive criminal records in the Far East section of the globe."

"So what you're telling us is that, on the day of a major peace conference with the Chinese, a large group of Asian nationals have entered the country with the intention of doing harm, and you and your team just sat on that knowledge," Tony's voice was getting eerily quiet.

Jack glared at him. "We didn't know _anything_ until they started shooting at us."

Before the two of them could start shooting at each other—hopefully not literally, but she still never knew with Jack— Sydney interrupted "Where is everybody?"

"Your father and Nadia are on the surveillance teams tracking the terrorists that came into the country," Kim began. "If you want the exact locations--"

"Where is my husband?"

Jack paused. "While Dixon and Vaughn were watching the airport, the terrorists became aware of our presence," he said slowly. "Five of them broke apart from the pack and attacked us. Dixon and Vaughn are all right, but three other agents were killed. Furthermore, in order to escape, they essentially firebombed the airstrip. It's looking like another ten or twelve civilians were killed."

The expression of relief on Sydney's face was replaced by one of concern.

Tony and Michelle were starting to look pissed. "So what you're telling me," Tony said slowly, "is that your operations has already resulted in the deaths of twenty people, the airstrip has been firebombed, and we're only getting word of this through the FA-fucking-A?!"

"Tony, I realized how pissed you are, and believe when I tell you that this is not how I wanted this to go down at all," Jack began. "But Division and District made it very clear that no other units were to be drawn away from the security of the conference."

Tony arched a brow. "And _now_ you decide to start following orders?"

"Marshall," Sydney interrupted with a sinking feeling in her chest, "the terrorists that were on the airplane, did you identify any of them as Hsu Kar-Wai?"

"Hold on a second," Marshall tapped some keys on his screen, scanning the photo ID's. Fifteen seconds later, he had an answer. "Yeah. You know him?"

"We intercepted a communication from Kar-Wai a few hours ago. It indicated that he was planning a major attack sometime today."

Bauer's jaw started to tense as he looked at Tony. "What were you saying about sharing information?"

There was a long pause as Tony got to his feet. "Jack, Syd, can you handle things for a minute?" he asked while moving.

"Tony—" Michelle said.

"First, I'm going to call District and tear them a new asshole for this dumbass maneuver," Tony said angrily, "then I'm going to have to call the President, and explain to him that they just let a major terrorist threat literally walk right into the country."

Michelle only half-heartedly tried to stop him, and Sydney made no effort at all. If anything, Syd was more pissed than Tony. She was also a little hurt-- her family had been put into harm's way, and no one had seen fit to tell her.

_Then again, if I had to be informed every time Vaughn or Dad were sent on a dangerous mission, my email box would always be overflowing. _"How the fuck did you let this happen, Jack?" Sydney insisted.

"You have no idea how long I railed after Division not to let us fly solo on this," Jack began.

"Jack, you don't have to explain to me about the idiocy of our superiors," Sydney said slowly. "They believe the right hand should never know what the left is doing, even if it's training a shotgun on the head. What I don't understand is why you went along with it."

"I had protocols to follow--"

"I know you, Jack," she interrupted. "There isn't a regulation in the book that you wouldn't bend until it was contorted beyond recognition. Besides which, some of the people in your unit are family, or damn close. You always go out of your way to keep those people safe. Why'd you blink this time?"

There was a longer pause as Jack considered this. "Because for the last year, APO has been able to handle everything thrown at it just fine. We've stopped Sloane and the Derevkos from destroying the planet, and everything that's crossed our paths lately, we can deal with, usually _despite_ the crap from above."

"We the unwilling," Marshall said, looking at his computer, "led by the unable, have accomplished so much with so little, that we can now do the impossible without anything at all."

Conversation stopped as everyone turned their attention to Marshall, still staring deep into the hypnotic glare of the computer monitor. Marshall felt the attention after a while, then looked up. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I say that out loud? It's just that I got that in an email passed around the office lately that I…" he blinked rapidly, at a complete loss for words.

Kim tapped his arm. "Go back to work, Marshall," she said gently.

He blinked again, at a loss, as though he didn't know that he had defused a potential office dustup.

"I hate to interrupt the Monday-morning quarterbacking," Michelle said, looking up from another screen, "as well as the Tourette's interlude, but we've got another problem."

"Now what?" Syd asked.

"Someone just drove a van into the Sepulveda Dam in Van Nuys!"

"How many casualties?" Jack demanded.

"Not many, the recreation area didn't open for another hour and a half," Michelle said. "Probably fewer deaths then at Cayuga Air Strip."

Kim frowned. "Why are such low priority and casualty targets being hit?" she asked. "There's no method to this madness."

"Have we got confirmation that the van is somehow connected to one of the vehicles that was carrying the Chinese hostiles?" Jack asked.

"I don't know yet. I'm still coordinating with LAPD."

"We need eyes on the ground." Sydney said. "Michelle, where's our nearest field team?"

"Baker and Lobell are probably the closest ones."

"Call them and get them out there," Jack said. "I'll get in touch with the surveillance teams, see if they've still got a twenty on any of the vans that left Cayuga Air Field."

"How long will it be till you and your team can be back in LA?" Sydney asked.

"I think we're about finished up here." Jack said. "We can probably be back in about ten minutes."

"All right. Michelle, tell Tony that as much fun as it is to shit on Driscoll we've got more important priorities now." Sydney sighed. "We'd better be able to get back on track fast."

**7:13:19/7:13:20/7:13:21/7:13:22**

The Congressional delegations did not receive the same kind of elaborate motorcade that the President did. If the Speaker of the House, and some of the Senate and House leaders had been part of the trip, they would have each gotten elaborate vehicles to carry them to the Western White House. As it was, some of the more important ones, like Heller, received their own limo. For the majority that remained, they would ride in luxury cars, in twos and threes.

The majority of the representatives engaged in the kind of faux chatter that usually precedes an elaborate event of political importance. However, one-- a two-term Congressman from the fourteenth district of Illinois -- remained deliberately aloof from the conversation. Some of the people who knew him better would know that this was a façade, but the majority of the senior representatives thought that he was distant and aloof-- or, in the case of one very old Senator, 'uppity'.

When the vehicle finally reached its destination, they had to cross through the press room. Most of the politicos stopped and gave a few comments to the press, but the man from Illinois gave a constant stream of 'no comment', and walked in.

"You can't keep treating the media as your enemy, Congressman," the President's chief of staff told the President's brother.

Congressman Wayne Palmer looked up at Novick with a smile that looked like he'd swallowed a lemon. "That's easy for you to say, Mike. You're not the one who everyone thinks got elected because of his brother."

"That's not fair and you know it, Wayne."

"Is it?" Wayne asked rhetorically. "David gets elected in one of the biggest landslides in history. Forty-three new Democrats in the House, but I'm the one who everybody focuses on. Everywhere I go, people think I'm the next Bobby, and they are always disappointed when I'm not."

"Maybe they'll be more forgiving if you starting getting death threats" Novick gave a tight little smile, as though he were afraid to grin. "Wayne, everyone knows that you're trying to be your own man. David knows and has always respected your wishes. When you asked him not to focus campaigning in your district, he understood where you were coming from. He respected you for it."

"I'm not worried about David's acceptance," Wayne pointed out. "But I have to worry about repercussions."

"What are you talking about?"

"Come on, Mike. You know the opposition that they're presenting against me in the primary in six months. You know that guys like Millikan don't want me to be on the ballot next year. That's why David put me on this trip in the first place."

"That's crap and you know it," Mike countered "You and I were in the same meetings for ten years. Everyone knows that you bring a lot to the table."

"They know inside the corridors of power. Public perception is I'm a hack in a suit trying to ride his brother's coattails to the White House."

Mike shook his head. "What's all this really about?"

"I know that you've got a meeting scheduled after the treaty is signed," Wayne said slowly. "I need you to persuade David to not support me."

"He's not going to let this go."

"That's the job people like us had when he was running for the first time, to tell him what he doesn't want to hear. He's already lost a huge amount of his credibility with Sherry. He can't blow what he has left on me."

The conversation was interrupted when the press secretary came in. "Mike, there's a developing situation," she told him.

The Congressman looked at the Presidential advisor. "I've gotta go. We'll discuss this later." Mike walked to the door. "Your brother doesn't give up on some things. It's one of his great strengths."

"I know that," Wayne said. "It's also one of his greatest weaknesses."

**7:21:04/7:21:05/7:21:06**

Nadia had thought that it was a very bad idea to get the ranks of APO spread so thin while trying to keep track of the four vans that had departed from Cayuga. For one thing, at this hour of the morning, at this relatively dense section of the state, it would be nearly impossible to be inconspicuous tracking them. Furthermore, when she'd contacedt Kim and asked her to come up with satellite tracking, she had been told flat out they were trying to do the same thing with the other vehicles simultaneously, and there were only so much electronics that were available around this section of Los Angeles.

She had a feeling that it would be only a matter of time before Kim called back and told her that they'd begun losing track of the hostiles. For herself, she hadn't made satellite contact in nearly five minutes, which was a bad sign.

The phone rang, interrupting her reverie. "This is Santos."

"Hey, Nadia, we've got a problem."

"Please tell me that you left the gas on when you snuck out this morning," she said, a smile briefly crossing her face.

"I wish," her fiancé said. "We're going to have direct surveillance of these hostiles to the back burner for awhile. Somebody blew a hole in the Sepulveda Dam about twenty minutes ago."

Nadia turned serious. "Do we have any confirmation that there the same people?"

"We don't have any of our people the scene yet," Jack said. "Dixon, Vaughn and myself are about a minute out. But the preliminary description of the vehicle has it matching one of the four that drove out of Cayuga Air Field."

"Where are you on identifying the hostiles at the airfield?""

"Three of them had extensive criminal records in the Far East. The fourth, Jia Kammin, was a known terrorist connected with the Scarlet Circle."

"So it's looking a lot like this has something to do with the President's visit today," Nadia summarized. "Have you contacted CTU?"

"Yeah. Sydney and Tony are briefing the President now." Jack paused. "If you want to say 'I told you so', now would be a good time."

"Right now, I think determining responsibility is something we should leave for Division," she said quietly. "God knows it's their fault that we're in this mess."

By now, Jack's helicopter had landed and he was watching Dixon and Vaughn talk to the police on scene.

"What do you want me to do about finding these hostiles?" Nadia asked. "I can contact Kim, have her do another satellite sweep."

Jack was looking at the van. "Right now, I think that this is our best bet at finding them," he said, looking at a PDA. "The van's model and license plate match; it was definitely one of the four that left Cayuga Air Field."

"How many hostiles have you found?"

"It's looking a lot like the driver was the only guy in the vehicle." Jack said.

"But Dixon said that there were at least eight men on each van," Nadia responded. "Where did the rest of them go?"

"That's the million-dollar question," Jack said, as he looked into the vehicle. "Look, how far out are you from Cayuga?"

"I think about twenty miles," Nadia said. "What do you want me to do?"

"I'm going to have Kim and Marshall use real-time telemetry to try and follow this vehicle's back trace," he said. "Then you're going to try and find out where these people went before. This van was hired to explode; they had to do it between here and the airstrip. They've gotta have some kind of rendezvous point."

"All right. Jack," Nadia paused. "How many casualties were at the dam?"

"According to LAPD, three, including the driver."

"And Van Nuys is still a good ten miles away from anything connected to the Western White house."

"That's right."

"I've got the two-million dollar question," Nadia asked. "Why'd they hit there now?"

Jack looked around. "I don't have an answer for that either."

**7:28:31/7:28:32/7:28:33/7:28:34**

"Mr. President, we can now state with certainty that the attacks on Cayuga Air Field and on the Sepulveda Dam were caused by the same agents," Sydney told President Palmer over the direct link

"And you're telling us that there are at least three other groups of these same terrorists now in the Los Angeles city limits," Kresge replied.

"Yes, and that's without counting however many others that this man Li Chin Wang had in the city prior to today."

"How certain are we than this man Wang is behind the attacks?" the President asked.

"Right now, we've identified nineteen of the men that came into the country," Chloe told the President nervously. "Of the eleven known terrorists, eight of them are connected either to Scarlet Circle or other known associates of Wang."

"And where are we locating him?" Mike Novick asked.

"Unfortunately, it has been nearly six months since the government has had any idea as to where Wang is," Tony said. "So far, all our leads on tracking him have led us nowhere."

There was a moment as the President considered this. "This conference is scheduled to begin in less than an hour," the President finally said "What is CTU's recommendation as to how to proceed?"

"Sir, Scarlet Circle has made many statements expressing extreme hostility toward any weakening of China's capabilities as a nuclear superpower," Tony said slowly. "Given the fact that they are in California, and have shown no hesitation to kill, we have to be sure that they intend to act on them."

"But the fact is you don't know how or where," Mike Novick said thoughtfully, "For all you know, they may act regardless of the treaty being signed."

"There is that possibility," Sydney admitted.

"Can we have a minute?" the President asked over the phone. He turned off the speaker. "Mike, what are you saying?"

"Mr. President," Mike began, "leaving aside the political fallout if we postpone the treaty signing, the United States' government can not have its foreign policy be mandated by the threats of terrorists. The effects would be catastrophic worldwide."

"And if they choose to attack the Russian or Chinese Premier while on our soil?"

"According to your own orders, the normal security force has been doubled around both leaders after they arrive," Mike pointed out. "NSA has already calculated that the chances are less than fifteen percent possibility of even breaching the motorcade. We can protect them."

"Mike, if terrorists attack either leader, it could be seen as a repudiation of the treaty, if not an all out declaration of war," the President argued.

"And if we delay the treaty signing now, it could negate all of the work you've managed to do just getting them here," Lynn countered. "They might never come back to the bargaining table."

The President considered this for a few seconds, then reconnected with CTU. "All right," the President said. "Just as this government's policy can not be to negotiate with terrorists, I believe this must extend to not letting terrorists decide what any other aspect of our policy is. I am therefore going to allow the conference to carry on as scheduled. However, I am going to raise the terror alert to Orange and order the California National Guard to be on standby until both Premiers have left Californian air space. I will also be relying on CTU to keep me constantly updated on any further developments with these terrorists."

**7:34:44/7:34:45/7:34:46**

"Very well, Mr. President," Tony said.

"We're going to get through this," the President said before hanging up.

Sydney walked over to Tony. "The President's drawing an awfully big line in the sand," she warned her boss.

"I also know that a show of weakness can only help our enemies," Tony countered. "I'm proud that this President is leading, not following."

At that moment, Sydney's cell rang. "Bristow."

"Sydney, it's Vaughn."

Sydney briefly forgot where she was. "Shit, Michael, you could have told me about what was going on at APO."

"Syd, you know that the day you left APO, you also lost clearance to be informed about what was happening there."

"I'm working security for the President," Sydney argued. "You don't think that I was entitled to a little consideration?"

"You can Xerox my complaint to Division and put your signature in place of mine," Vaughn told her. He sighed. "It was as if I was trying to tell them the end of a movie." He paused. "However, I did tell Marshall to make sure that you got the report from the FAA a little faster than any other agency."

"Well, thank you for that much," Syd said. "What did you and Jack find at the dam site?"

"The body had no identification on it, and it was burned too badly to get fingerprints or dental," Vaughn admitted. "However, we found a PDA with a damaged monitor. I hooked Marshall up on it. He's used one of his data-recovery programs to see if he can get any information on it. So far all we have is the last message that he received."

"What was it?"

" 'Begin phase one.'" Vaughn paused. "Like we needed someone to tell us that."

"You have any idea where the message came from?"

"Marshall's trying to back-trace it now, but he said it might involve some more effort than usual."

"If Marshall says it's tough, we may have a real problem," Syd admitted.

At that moment Chloe walked up. "Sydney, we have something."

"Look, get back to me when you get through to Marshall. And by the way," Sydney paused. "I forgive you for doing your job."

"Thank you."

"But you're not getting sex for awhile." And with that Syd hung up.

"I'm glad to know that you can equate a major government screw-up to a bedroom tiff," Chloe said when she turned to her. "Really puts things in perspective."

Sydney was about to say something, when the phone rang again. She put it on speakerphone. "Bristow."

"Bauer."

Sydney blinked, wondering why Jack's voice had sounded so young…and so female. "Kim, what is it?"

Kim Bauer said, "Marshall sent me the memory chip from one of the cell phones they found at Cayuga Air Field," she started.

"Marshall delegated some of his work to you?" Sydney said disbelievingly.

"Is this just because I'm blonde?" Sydney raised an eyebrow. "The point is I got a list of the last five numbers that the caller dialed."

"Anything we can use?"

"One of the last calls was to the main desk at Wilshire Memorial Hospital. Now I don't know what connection this has to do with the Chinese, but it's within a five-mile radius of Van Nuys," Kim told Sydney.

"Try and get one of our field teams to meet me there," Sydney asked, as she walked to her desk.

Now Kim raised an eyebrow. "You're going out into the field?"

"We're short-staffed because of the President's latest upgrade. Besides, we need some fresh eyes to look at this."

Kim nodded to herself. "Tell me about it. I think that's why APO was sent to the airfield this morning. When was the last time you were out?"

"She has been on a field assignment in more than a year," Chloe helpfully added.

Bristow didn't even spare her a glance as she opened her drawer. "It's like riding a bicycle, Chloe," Sydney said as she checked her Glock.

"Yeah, but if you fall off your bike, you don't get a hole blown in your stomach," Chloe added.

"Your support for me is overwhelming," Sydney said, with an eye roll. To Kim: "At least Marshall isn't snippy. Thanks for the heads up." She looked at Chloe. "Just tell Tony where I'm headed."

**7:40:55/7:40:56/7:40:57/7:40:58**

By now, the news had been filtering in about the two attacks that had taken place in the last hour, but so far no one was hypothesizing that they had anything to do with the conference. Either the media knew and was being extraordinarily discreet, or they didn't know, and were being incredibly naïve. Both of these extremes were very unlikely, so Congressman James Heller was thinking there was some kind of unhappy medium that was going to end up blowing the entire day into extreme turmoil.

Heller was a decent enough man to not play on these kinds of situations. The men who financed his runs for office, and backing him to run for President, did not share his scruples.

"All of this is going on, and the President hasn't made any statement?" the ambitious representative for the California statehouse was asking over the phone.

"The press secretary came out and said that he would make a statement after the leaders from Russia and China landed," Heller relayed, "which means he'll probably talk about it in thirty minutes."

"And you're just letting this opportunity go?" the union leader whose racial prejudices the media had chosen to ignore. "Palmer's vulnerable, and you're not ceasing the opportunity to strike?"

"Only you, Peyton, could see the loss of two dozen American lives as an 'opportunity'," Heller said with some disgust.

"I'm only saying--"

"I know what you're saying, I also know what kind of tricks you've got in your back pocket," Heller said, his temper rising, "and if you're telling me to use these acts of terrorism as a political opportunity, you can find yourself another candidate to back."

"All right, James, we're all very well of your ethics," the erstwhile representative from Santa Barbara said, "it's one of the reasons we're backing you in the first place. Perhaps we're just a little concerned about what a placid approach you are taking with this entire conference."

"I'm well aware that most of you were opposed to my helping the President at all," Heller said in a slightly calmer tone. "I've already told you that my duty to this country sometimes has to be put ahead of politics, but every time I talk like that, you all get glazed expressions on your faces. So I'll be blunt: until and unless the President makes a decision that I believe is harmful, I'm not going to attack him. Are we absolutely clear, Charles?"

"Absolutely, Congressman," both the men on the conference call said.

Heller turned off the speaker as he saw Mike Novick enter the room. "I appreciate your advice, but don't call me until after the ink on the treaty has dried." With that, he hung up.

"Has there been any further information about what's happening at either of the sites?" he asked Novick

"The dam has affected a major power grid for Van Nuys," Novick said. "Some sections of the city are suffering intermittent power and water service."

"That's all you're going to tell me?"

"That's all we know, _Jim_" Novick said with deliberate calm. "There will be another intelligence briefing before the plane lands."

"You know, given everything that I've done for the President over the last couple of months, I would think that I'm entitled to knowing more than the media does," Heller said, with a slight irritation in his tone..

"And you know as well as anyone here about the chain of command. When you finally get the Republican nomination, you'll be entitled to more information. Otherwise, your access is the same as every other civilian here."

Heller swallowed his pride. "So the conference is going on as scheduled?"

"Yes, Congressman, it is."

**7:45:28/7:45:29/7:45:30**

.Jack had just finished a long and (as usual) unproductive discussion with District about getting more manpower to search for the other three vans. Half of the agency forces had been diverted to make sure nothing happened as the airspace into LA, and while Jack appreciated what President Palmer was trying to do, he knew that it was making APO's job a lot harder. Life would just be so much easier if Jack could just shoot the District people who got in his way, like he did with the terrorists armed with assault rifles instead of red tape.

Dixon walked up to him. "I think that we've gotten everything we can out of the scene," he told Jack.

"Has Marshall gotten anywhere tracing that last message?"

"Apparently, it was routed through at least five major networks. This guy definitely made sure that he wasn't tracked."

"Which means that it's coming from someone pretty high up in the hierarchy," Jack theorized.

"It still doesn't answer the main question. Why attack here, now?" Dixon countered. "Right now the major damage seems to be in terms of property rather than loss of life. No terrorist organization in history ever declared a war by tinkering around with electricity and water."

Bauer nodded. "Does this all feel familiar to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know who I mean—high explosives to cover their escapes, multiple attacks that may or may not be feints, along with a heavily organized infrastructure. This one feels like one of our regulars. K-Directorate, perhaps, or the Covenant, if they were still around…or even..."

Just then, Jack's phone rang. "Bauer."

"I think I have something," Nadia said abruptly.

"What? Did you find a rendezvous point?"

"No, but I may have found the last place your bomber stopped before driving into the dam."

"Hold on a second," Jack put Nadia on speaker. "Where are you?"

"It's a power station just off of route 5 on the Golden State Freeway," Nadia said. "Kim backtracked the van's movements to here around ten minutes before the dam was destroyed. They dispersed into three or four other vehicles."

"Were you able to trace any of them?" Dixon asked.

"No, but the photos did reveal something very interesting. Ten people got on to the van at Cayuga Air Field. Two people were on it when it left for the dam."

All three agents listening to the call got it. "So where did the other hostile go?" Jack asked.

"That may explain something else," Vaughn added. "The 911 call about what happened at this dam came in at 7:04 from that payphone." He pointed to one on the far side of the road. "But the only people on site were the guards who the forensic team say died in the explosion."

"You think that one of the terrorists called the authorities about their own attack?" Nadia asked. "Why would they so blatantly reveal themselves?"

There was a moment's consideration. "Because they wanted to create a distraction until they hit their actual target," Jack answered.

"Which means that it would have to be something nearby." Vaughn said. "I'll call Kim, see if she can find any possible targets within a ten-mile radius of this location."

"How long until you can get over to Van Nuys?" Jack asked Nadia.

"Within fifteen minutes."

"Get out here. When we have a probable target, I'll call you with the location." Jack looked at his watch. "And put a move on. They're probably going to hit us sometime before the major delegations are scheduled to land in Los Angeles. The terrorists could strike at any moment."

"Damn," Dixon said, "I hate days like this."

Jack nodded. "You get used to it."

**7:50:22/7:50:23/7:50:24/7:50:25**

_Wilshire Memorial Hospital_

The ambulance pulled up to the emergency room doors. "Twenty-nine-year-old female, suffering from stab wounds to the chest, abdomen and stomach," one of the paramedics told the waiting doc. "We staunched the bleed, but she lost the pulse in the field and we had to put in a chest tube."

"All right, take her the trauma two." Two of the doctors took her inside and began working on her.

The two paramedics exchanged a glance, and the one who was more soaked in blood said. "Mind if I use your restroom?"

The ER chief didn't recognize either of the medics that had brought the women, which was odd because he could put a name to nine-tenths of the medics who came into his ER. But with the terror alert having been raised fifteen minutes ago, he couldn't afford to waste his time trying to match the face to the name. "Sure."

The medic walked inside Wilshire Memorial and made his way to the bathroom. Once there, he locked the door, took off his white coat, and removed a pen. He unscrewed it, and removed the spring. He began taking out some small boxes, and in less than a minute, he had assembled a gun. Thankfully, there wasn't time to wand an EMT.

He took out his phone. "I'm in," he told the voice on the other end.

"Good. The security force is concentrated at the front entrance. There's usually only one man on duty. Where is the other man?"

"The back door."

"I'll meet them there."

As Sydney pulled into the front entrance, her cell rang. "Bristow," she said as she turned the key.

"Sydney, it's Dixon. When I called CTU, Chloe told me that you were in the field. Didn't you start working there for the express purpose of not going out on dangerous assignments?"

"Says the man who gave up a desk job to work as field agent for a black ops unit," Sydney responded, getting out of the car

"Fair point. Look, I didn't call the bust your chops." Dixon said, seriously. "You're at Wilshire Memorial Hospital?"

"About to walk in the front door," Sydney said.

"You couldn't hold off going in a few more minutes?" Dixon asked. "Vaughn and I can be there in less than ten."

"So APO thinks that it's a potential target," Sydney said as she took out her ID, and took out her Glock.

"Marshall and Kim just finished running the numbers. They think there's a forty percent possibility that it could be a strike site."

"I don't normally doubt Marshall's work, but what are you basing it on? I'm not convinced that anything's going to happen here."

"Wilshire Memorial's one of the largest hospitals in California," Dixon argued. "Add to that the fact that it never closes and that three of the biggest targets in the range haven't opened their doors yet, I'd say there's a damn good chance they'd make it an objective."

Sydney looked around. "How far out are you?" she asked.

"Ten minutes."

"I've got a meeting with the Chief of Staff. I'll get him to help meet us at the back door."

"Gotcha. Meet you there."

Dixon hung up, and Syd walked to the front desk, where a man with hair so black it could only be a dye job, and a grin that she automatically disliked was waiting.

"You're Dr. Michael Mancini?" Sydney asked.

"That's right. You're the government agent that I talked to a few minutes ago?" Mancini gave an oily smile. "I didn't know that the FBI turned agents out as beautiful as you."

"Save the cheap flattery for someone who isn't married or armed."

Mancini assumed a more businesslike attitude. "How can I help you?"

"Do you know offhand what percentage of your staff is Asian?"

Mancini frowned. "This hospital employs nearly three hundred people, Agent Bristow," he said. "But I can get our employment records to see how many employees we have on staff."

"Do that. Tell them to start with any hires over the last year." Sydney ordered.

"Look, I want to know what this is all about," Mancini said. "Are the people at this hospital in some kind of danger, because there are precautions that we can take."

"Then I suggest you call the people in charge of security."

The main security guard was watching a van pull up through the monitor, when suddenly he felt the muzzle at the back of his head. "Turn off the metal detectors at every entrance," a voice ordered.

"But--"

"Do it."

The guard began cutting the power to the metal detectors. When he flicked his last switch, the man with the plastic gun shot the guard through the head.

He took out his radio. "Security has been neutralized! Go!"

Three men armed with assault rifles walked in the emergency room. Simultaneously, six others walked in the main entrance and the service entrance. All of them began pointing guns at the patients and staff. "Anybody moves, we will fire on all of you. Nobody try to be a hero, and you stand a much better chance of surviving!"

The patients and doctors all froze. "All right," the leader said into the walkie-talkie. "Secure the entrances! No one gets in or out from this moment on! Hsu, get on the line with the police. Make it clear that Scarlet Circle is holding this facility hostage, and unless our demands are met people will begin to die!"

**7:59:57/7:59:58/7:59:59/8:00:00**


	3. 8:00 AM TO 9:00 AM

Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**The Following Takes Place Between 8:00 A.M. and 9:00 A.M.**

When the three terrorists came in the front door, several things flashed through Sydney's head in a matter of seconds.

_Asian males, so these are the jokers from the airport, which could mean there are dozens of them—especially to secure an entire hospital…they like explosives, so that too…unmasked, so everyone here is either dead, or it won't matter…_

_CTU and APO will make it here in minutes…and these guys probably know that—enter more explosives…_

_And I am _not _tackling three guys with a Glock after 18 months behind a desk!_

Her body in the meantime operated independently of her mind; while all this was happening she yanked the petrified Dr. Mancini behind the administration desk.

"Listen to me carefully, and do not make a sound," she ordered in a low whisper. "The people who are in your building are terrorists." Mancini let out a gasp; Sydney responded by yanking on the good doctor's collar. "Now these people will kill me if they learn that a government agent is inside your hospital. And if I get killed, the possibility of everyone else dying increases dramatically. Now I can get you and your people out of this, but the only way I can is if you do exactly what I say. Understand?"

Mancini nodded vigorously. "All right," Sydney took a compact mirror out of her jacket pocket, and raised it until it was at her arms length. One of the terrorists was in the process of taping something to the door; the others were collecting all the cell phones from the two-dozen people on the floor.

"I'm going to try and make my way over to the bathroom. Now I want you to stay low and do everything these people ask of you. Under absolutely no circumstances draw any attention to the fact that I'm here. All right?"

Again Mancini nodded vigorously.

Sydney reexamined her mirror, made sure that both of the terrorists were looking away from the desk, and rolled over to the bathroom, which mercifully was only five feet away from the admin desk. She looked twice to make sure she was unobserved, then ducked inside the bathroom.

She imagined these people would eventually come to the bathrooms, but if they were spread as thin as she thought, she'd have at least five minutes.

After checking the stalls to ensure the room was empty, she took out her cell phone, and called CTU.

"O'Brian."

"Chloe, this is Sydney."

"Tony's not happy that you went into the field without backup, " Chloe said in her typically brusque manner.

"Well, he's going to be shitting green apples when he finds out the trouble I'm in right now," Sydney said grimly.

There was a pause of exactly five seconds, in which Syd presumed Chloe listened to the police scanner. "Shit, when you go out on assignment you don't fuck around," she said with a sense of awe.

"Well, the good news is Jack and the rest of APO will be onsite in a couple of minutes to help with the rescue attempts," Sydney said, as she looked for the air-ducts, and began to unscrew them with a device from her Swiss Army knife. "The bad news is that I think that there have to be at least a dozen of these people, and their all probably armed to the fucking teeth."

"What do you need?"

"To start, I need you to get the interior schematics for this hospital, specifically the ventilation systems and where they lead, and send them to my PDA," she said as the second screw came out. "Then I need you to contact APO and tell them that under no circumstances are they to try any kind of contact with the terrorists, until I can give some kind of position on where everybody is."

"They're not that quick on the trigger over there."

"They might get that way when they learn that I'm in the building," Sydney pointed out. "Just tell everybody not to make any kind of move until I can get read on the layout."

**8:06:22/8:06:23/8:06:24**

As it turned out, APO's arrival was even quicker than Sydney could have imagined. Dixon, Vaughn and Jack Bauer had managed to arrive three minutes earlier outside the main entrance to see a sight that had clearly passed chaos three exits back.

There was a crowd of panicked people gathered outside the entrance, and while there were all sorts of reasons for, the most obvious were two recently shot people lying sprawled outside the entrance. Unfortunately, that had been as close as the three agents had been able to get, as even a novice could tell that some kind of plastic explosive had been taped to the glass.

Jack's eyes narrowed and automatically did what he did best when confronted with a crisis: he took control of the situation. He called CTU and told them that terrorists had taken control of all three entrances of the hospital.

"Do you have any idea how many hostiles there are?" Tony asked.

"It's gonna be hard to tell," Jack said. "Could be anywhere from nine to twelve. They've already killed people just for standing close to the entrances. I think we're about as close we're going to get to the inside."

"Yeah, thermal scans are going to be useless given the number of people in the hospital," Tony said.

Just then, Michelle walked up. "Tony, we have a call that's being patched in from LAPD," she told him. "A man claiming to be speaking for the hostiles has demanded to talk to the head of CTU."

"Patch me into the call," Jack demanded.

Tony did so.

"Am I speaking to the director of CTU?" a heavily-accented voice asked.

"Yes, this is Tony Almeida. Who am I talking to?"

"It should be sufficient for you to know that I speak for Scarlet Circle, and that my men are in command of Wilshire Memorial Hospital." The voice was calm, cool, and in control—not the type of killer Jack wanted in charge, he preferred the one who could rave, they were easier to manipulate. "My men have had to kill seven people to gain control of this facility. Those deaths are on our consciences. Any further deaths that occur will be on that of you and your country unless our demands are met."

"And what are your demands?" Tony asked calmly.

"For starters, I know that there at least one of your agents are in the sightlines of the main entrance." Jack became still, because he knew that agent was him. "He has exactly one minute to get to the far side of the building, or two hostages will die. The minute begins now."

Tony got off the line fast. "Which agent is he talking about?" he demanded.

"Me." Jack was already on the move. He was reluctant to give up anything to these bastards, but now was not the time to piss these people off—besides, he wasn't wearing body armor.

He ducked behind a wall, and waited until the sixty seconds were up.

"Continue to meet our demands, and there will be no need for further violence." Jack didn't like the smugness that was now in the speakers tone.

"What do you want?"

"In less than two hours, your president is scheduled to sign a treaty with our premier that is abhorrent to the policies of hundreds of millions of our people," the speaker said. "The President and the premier must instead issue a joint statement repudiating completely this agreement by that time. If he does not do so, every American in this hospital will be dead by the time that treaty is signed."

"Our President will never let that happen," Tony said abruptly.

"Your President will have no choice," the speaker responded. "And don't think that our only weapons are guns and explosives. We will turn this hospital into a mausoleum before you get inside."

With that, the connection went dead.

"How the hell are we going to play this?" Tony asked.

"We do have one advantage that the terrorists aren't aware of," Jack said. "Before we got here, Dixon had a conversation with Syd. She's already inside the hospital. And given the way our friend spoke, I'm guessing they don't know she's there."

There was a pause. "So you're telling me our only hope against a gang of militant Chinese terrorists is Sydney," Tony summarized.

A grim smile crossed Jack's face. "Doesn't seem fair, does it?"

"Syd's not Bruce Willis, Jack."

"You're right," Chloe said from a corner, "she has hair."

"If she's going to have a chance in there," Almeida continued, ignoring O'Brien, "we have to come up with some kind of contingency."

"I'll talk to Dixon and Vaughn," Jack agreed. "Tell them to set up a command center. We'll coordinate with your people and LAPD. Try and come up with some ways of getting past their defenses."

"I'll get started on it. I'll get back to you after I've contacted Division and District. They're going to be royally pissed, when they learn what's happening here."

"Oh, I can think of someone who's going to be even angrier." Jack said. "I'll call you back when we're set up."

"Copy."

Tony hung up and Jack started dialing Sydney's father.

**8:10:46/8:10:47/8:10:48/8:10:49**

Considering the added levels of security that President Palmer had added to the airstrip, it was almost a relief when the plane carrying Premier Zhang En Lai landing with no sign of problems. The ceremonial handshake seemed comparatively tension-free.

The Russian premier's plane was coming in for a landing when Mike walked away from the podium to answer his phone. The President immediately knew something was wrong, but maintained his position, knowing that his Chief of Staff would insist that protocol not be violated unless there really was an emergency.

After the two leaders exchanged greetings and they had started walking back to their respective motorcades, Mike walked back over to him, with a grim expression on his face.

"Mike, what's going on?" the President asked.

"I just got a call from Erin Driscoll at Division. There is a developing situation at an LA hospital."

The euphemism 'situation' is one of the most overused words in Washington -- you only got worried when they used more direct words like 'crisis' or 'threat'. However, in Palmer's tenure at the White House, he had insisted that euphemisms like this be used only when there when in front of the press, who could run wild when they heard anything approaching the word 'problem'. "What sort of situation?" the President said, lowering his voice.

"Armed hostiles have taken one of the larger hospitals in LA hostage," Mike said slowly.

"How big is the hospital?"

Mike lowered his voice. "Somewhere between five and seven hundred people."

_This is definitely a time when the word 'situation' is woefully inadequate._ "What you're really telling me that the Chinese extremists who entered the country today are holding this hospital hostage?"

"We have no concrete evidence," Mike began, "however, they believe that is the case."

The two of them walked easily back to the motorcade, and Palmer gave the press a tight smile and a wave, remaining calm all the way; that attitude didn't change even after they went into the Presidential limo. "How, Mike?" What are they armed with? Guns, chemical weapons, explosives?"

"CTU's still gathering intelligence."

Palmer's eyes narrowed. "What demands have the terrorists made?"

Mike took a deep breath. "They are demanding that you and the Premier repudiate the treaty you are about the sign or they will kill everyone inside."

The President thoughtfully stared out the window for a long moment, then glanced back to Mike. "We have to postpone the signing."

"Mr. President, I can start doing that, but there will be all kinds of ramifications if we do."

"This day is about saving the lives of future generation, not about killing people living now," the President said firmly. "Both En Lai and Suvarov are reasonable men. They'll understand that this treaty will become a mockery if we let hundreds of people die before the ink on the treaty is dry. Now, does the media know about this?"

Mike shook his head. "So far the only people they've contacted are CTU. They've made no effort to notify the press."

"How long do you think we can keep a lid on this before they find out?"

"How long are you considering keeping it quiet?"

"Hopefully until CTU can mount a rescue operation. Though given the situation, the chances of them succeeding are not good." The President paused for a moment as something occurred to him. "The terrorists haven't made their demands public knowledge?"

"So far, they haven't."

"That's odd," the President noted. "Given the visibility of their target, I would have expected them to contact the media first. Make clear who their enemies are."

"Indeed. What do you want to do first?" he asked

"Call Lynn at the retreat. Tell her to prepare for what we may have to do. Then contact CTU. I want to know our best course of action."

**8:22:19/8:22:20/8:22:21**

Jack Bauer waited for CTU to call back, staring at the phone as though it had offended him by not ringing.

"Bauer," Vaughn started cautiously, "staring at it won't make it ring."

Jack turned a glare on Vaughn. _Yup, _Michael thought, _it is _definitely _one of those days._

"Jack," came a lightly accented voice, "stop threatening the subordinates. They know you don't mean it."

Vaughn glanced at Nadia and almost said, _That's easy for you to say. I'm not so sure._

Bauer's gaze softened as he looked away from Vaughn and back at his fiancée. "Hey, Nadia—"

At that point, the phone rang.

"Damnit," Bauer muttered as he flipped open the phone. "Bauer."

"We've got a vocal confirmation of the man I talked to," Tony said. "It's Hsu Kar-Wai."

When Jack heard this, he put the phone on speaker and let Vaughn, Dixon and Nadia in on the conversation.

"You know more about Scarlet Circle's MO than we do," he told Tony. "How long are they going to give us before there are additional casualties?"

"He and his people have already killed seven civilians. I don't think they're going to play tag, but…" Tony trailed off.

"They're playing this wrong, aren't they? Vaughn said.

Nadia glanced at him. "What are you talking about?"

"This is one of the biggest population centers in the city in the middle of a major terror strike, and I don't see a single camera anywhere," Jack said slowly. "You want to cause panic in the streets, you make your demands in the eyes of the world. They're acting like they want to keep this between as few people as possible. This isn't how a major terror organization acts, especially one with a man like Kar-Wai leading the operation."

"Not that this isn't interesting," Nadia began, "but right now, who gives a shit? There are five hundred and fifty eight people in that hospital, many of the infirm and helpless. We know the terrorists have assault rifles, they've got all three entrances wired with explosives, and, lest we forget, my sister is in the air-conditioning system!"

"Has Sydney made any contact since her initial communication with Chloe?" Vaughn asked.

"She's been sending us pictures of the terrorist's positions from her cell phone," Chloe said slowly. "Unfortunately, it's a big building, and they've spread themselves a little thin."

"Does she have a read on how many there are?" Jack asked.

"She saw three when she came in the main entrance, she's spotted two additional shooters so far," Chloe told them. "Problem is, this hospital has a basement and two surgical wings. Trying to map the place from the inside out will take awhile."

"She thinks that they're spreading themselves that thin?" Vaughn asked incredulously.

"Don't ask me, I'm not the one crawling through the air-ducts like John McLain," Chloe said pithily.

Vaughn paid this cattiness no mind, and speed-dialed Marshall. "Marshall, do you have the schematics for Wilshire Memorial up yet?" he asked abruptly.

"Of course he does," Chloe said. "I told him where I bookmarked the site."

"Um, actually, I pulled the schematic using the web-browser ten minutes before CTU was contacted."

"This isn't a teambuilding exercise, Marshall," Chloe argued. "You don't get extra points for finishing first."

"Chloe, can we put aside the pissing contest for now?" Vaughn said impatiently. He looked to Jack. "This may be our way in. If you can't go through the door, maybe we can go under it."

"What are you thinking?" Jack asked.

"There has to be a drainage section in this hospital where they dispose of surgical waste," Vaughn said. "Now this isn't a section of the hospital that someone who isn't a doctor would know about."

Nadia looked at Vaughn. "And how exactly do _you_ know about this?"

"You know how much time people like us have to spend in hospitals?"

Nadia shook her head. "Slipped my mind."

"My guess is that Kar-Wai and his hostiles don't know about it, and they certainly won't waste a man to watch it."

"He's right," Marshall said, highlighting the schematic. "There's one located in the eastern corridor of the basement of the hospital. There are only two small problems. First of all, it is a waste disposal center, so there's going to be detritus, needles and limbs and blood and coagulation--"

"Marshall, the problems," Vaughn asked, who was wishing their tech wasn't so visual with his description

"It's messy, so it would be really hard to climb through. And it's not going to be that wide: according to the scale on this map, it's less than eighteen inches in diameter."

"Leaving aside those drawbacks for the moment," Jack argued, "where would we access this pipeline?"

"Hold on a second," Marshall tapped some keys. "There's a point of egress under an open manhole at Fourteenth and Wilshire, about a third of a mile from here."

"Then I think that we'd better get there ASAP," Jack said. "At the very least it'll be out of the terrorist's line of sight

"That still doesn't answer the question of how we'd be to send a team in there to get those people," Nadia said as they walked to the car.

"That's just it," Jack said. "We're not going to."

**8:30:58/8:30:59/8:31:00/8:31:01**

"All right, here are the schematics of the underground section of pipelines that Vaughn is saying that we can use as a point of entry," Chloe said, bringing it on to the main monitor, and focusing on the pipes.

"What's the pipeline's bore?" Michelle asked.

"According to this, it's seventeen inches in diameter. You'd barely be able to get a trained dog through there, much less one of our people."

Tony considered this. "Well, Jack wouldn't send his team down there unless he had some way of threading this particular needle."

At that moment, the phone rang. "CTU, Almeida," Tony said, as he picked it up.

"It's Jack. Put me on speaker," Jack instructed.

Tony did so. "All right, Jack, we're all here. Tell us what you've got in mind."

"You've seen the same schematics that I have," Jack began. "It's probably the safest way into the building, but the entryway is barely large enough for anybody to fit through. According to the schematics, these pipes are connected to several others in the sewage system. Now what I want us to do is use strategically placed explosive charges, small enough to crack holes in the pipeline without causing the entire structure to give way, but large enough for us to widen the gaps, so that the remainder of the strike force can gain entry into the hospital."

"You set off any kind of explosives like that, the terrorists are going to be on you like flies on shit," Michelle said.

"Vaughn," Jack said. "Patch Marshall into the call."

Marshall was in another of his hyperactive moods. "OK, during the Cold War, one of the major conventional weapon makers was trying to mix stealth technology on explosives, so that they could detonate without alerting, well, you know, us." He paused for a moment. "Now, when the Iron Curtain fell, the CIA got some models of the technology, but had never been able to perfect it."

There was a pause as they considered this. "And you're telling us that you succeeded where the rest of the government could not?" Chloe asked, with just a hint of sarcasm.

"_I _didn't do anything," Marshall corrected, "but a colleague of mine at NSA has been working on it on and off for the last five years, and less than a month ago, he successfully field-tested it. I used some subterranean requisitions to get some of it, hoping for the right occasion."

"I'd say that the time has come," Vaughn said plainly. "I've already talked with Kim; it should be on site in less than ten minutes."

"All right, so you've got the magic," Tony said, "but that still doesn't answer the more pressing question: who's going to lay the explosives in the pipeline?"

There was an awkward pause. "I think we all know the answer to that," Nadia said.

"Wait a minute--" Jack began.

"Nadia, I came with this idea with the intention of following through," Vaughn argued.

"That's very gallant of both of you," Nadia responded "but I know that though both of you keep in excellent shape, even if you stripped naked and greased up, neither of you would be able to fit inside the pipe, much less have room to lay the charges." Nadia smiled. "There are a lot of advantages to being a size three; I never expected this to be one of them."

"Nadia, it's too dangerous."

"It's risky, but it's hardly a suicide mission." Nadia spoke into the phone. "Marshall, I assume that these charges can be detonated on a timer."

"Um, yeah, that's right," Marshall said. "Theoretically, you should have plenty of time to place all the explosives, get out of the pipeline, and detonate the charges."

"Nadia, if something goes wrong--" Jack started.

"Jack, in what capacity are you speaking to me: as a fellow agent or as my fiancée?" Jack had the grace to look away. "At any rate, the people in that hospital are in a far greater predicament than I am, and we have to place their rescue above my safety."

"She's right, Mr. Bauer."

Everybody looked up as Jack Bristow, who until had been putting up a buffer zone between APO and Division, arrived at the manhole.

"I'm about as thrilled about this as the rest of you," Sydney's father began, "but this is probably our best chance of getting those people out of there."

"Has the President made any decisions?" Vaughn asked.

"According to my sources, he's delaying the treaty signing until we can find a solution to this problem," Mr. Bristow began. "Now this will buy us some time, but when others in this administration begin hear about this, there's going to be pressure on this government not to yield to Kar-Wai and his men, and if they get wind of it, this crisis could be escalated. This is our best chance of resolving it."

"All due respect, Mr. Bristow," Jack began, "you're not exactly unprejudiced on this."

"All due respect, Mr. Bauer, neither are you." Sydney's father spoke into the phone. "Marshall, have you run any estimates as to how long it will take to get the explosives placed?"

"Uh, yes sir, between twenty-five and thirty minutes."

"Kim will be here any minute with the explosives," Mr. Bristow said. "I believe it's in all of our interests to do whatever it takes to save these hostages."

"There anything we can do to help Syd?" Vaughn asked.

"Not so far, but if I know my daughter, she's going to find a way to help us."

**8:39:35/ 8:39:36/8:39:37/8:39:38**

Though Sydney had no idea what her father was telling the assembled agencies, it wouldn't have surprised anyone to know that she had decided to do exactly that.

In her last communication with Chloe, she had been told that all three of the entrances were lined with plastic explosives that the terrorists could trigger if anyone came in or left. This meant CTU was going to have to find a more 'creative' way of getting inside. It also meant, for a little while, she was on her own.

Sydney had located nine separate gunmen, and suspected that there could be another four or five hidden throughout the hospital. She didn't know how many of them had the capacity to trigger the explosives, but she figured the best way of doing so was for her to thin the herd.

So she had lowered herself into one of the hospitals laboratories and tried to find what tools she could use to help her meet that end—preferably, something quieter than her Glock, and wouldn't alarm the entire building.

Sydney knew from past experience that the enterprising villain could build a fair arsenal with the equipment one found in a lab. She filled her belt with scalpels and scissors, boxes of matches, a couple of bottles of rubbing alcohol and acids, and some packages of nitroglycerine.

She then reentered the air ducts and resumed crawling through the shaft until she found a corridor where a terrorist was patrolling alone.

_I suppose this is the part where I say 'Nurse? Scalpel'? _she thought as she waited for the hostile to pass into her zone.

The instant he did, she knocked the grate off and jumped onto the terrorist's head. He dropped his AK-47, but he was fast enough to knock her off he shoulders. Before he did, she threw one of her bottles of chemicals into her enemy's face. The burning lasted just a few seconds, but it was long enough to kick the gun out of his reach. She tried to cut his neck with her scalpel, but he yawed to her left, just out of range.

The terrorist took a Krav Maga position, and Sydney countered it like she was returning a tennis serve, slapping the back of his hand, deflecting the punch easily. She grabbed the wrist and kicked for his stomach, the blow glancing off of his Kevlar body armor. She brought the foot down, driving it into his instep, and twisted, throwing him against the wall. When he charged at her again, she sidestepped and slashed the scalpel across his carotid artery.

Her opponent fell to the ground, lifeless.

_Now if they weren't as thinly spread as before, I've got a real problem_ she thought as she rifled the victim's pockets for weapons clips. She ran down the hall, picked up the rifle and made her way towards the closet.

_If I'm lucky this'll be the only up close kill I have to do here._

Sydney knew from experience that luck had almost nothing to do with these kinds of missions.

**8:44:27/8:44:28/8:44:29**

"Lao, come in," Hsu said over his walkie-talkie.

He got nothing but static back. "Lao, do you copy?"

Getting a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Hsu changed frequencies. "Tsai, what was Lao Ye's last position?" he said to his second in command.

"He was patrolling the eastern wing of the hospital," Tsai reported.

"All right, check that section again, and make sure there's more than one of you," Hsu ordered. "Be damned if we get picked off one by one like some lousy movie."

Hsu took out his phone and dialed a scrambled number.

"Yes," said the voice on the other end.

"Where are we in relation to the conference?" Hsu asked.

"The President is currently meeting with advisers to discuss the validity of continuing in the face of our threat," the speaker said.

"You told us that this President was a strong man," Hsu said. "I find it difficult to believe he would give in so easily."

"I don't believe he has any intention of giving in. I think he's simply trying to stall for time so that his people can find a way to stop us."

"Do you think he knows something that we don't?"

The speaker paused. "_Is _something going wrong?"

"No," Hsu assured the speaker almost too readily. "The operation is running smoothly."

"Then you'll be ready to begin the next phase of the plan soon."

"Within the hour," he said. "Call us when you're ready to proceed."

As his walkie-talkie blared again, Hsu hung up. "What is it, Tsai?"

"Lao's dead, and it looks like someone beat the hell out of him before he killed him."

A shower of ice started to pervade Hsu Kar-Wai's spine. "Have any of our entry points been breached?" he demanded.

"Not unless there's someone at your end," Tsai responded.

Hsu could see from where he was standing then nobody had gotten in or out. "Get the hell out of there, and make your way back to the emergency room," he ordered. "We have to prepare for the possibility that someone's already in the hospital."

"What are you going to do?"

"Talk to someone who's been lying to us." He clicked the transmitter off and turned to one of his associates.

"Bring me Dr. Michael Mancini," he told them. "We need to have a conversation."

**8:50:59/8:51:00/8:51:01/8:51:02**

Lynn Kresge walked up to Mike. "Congressman Heller keeps asking when he can see the President," she said quietly.

"I'm well aware of that, Lynn," Mike said with the slightest tinge of exasperation in his voice. "But right now, helping out James Heller has got to be at the very bottom of my list of priorities."

"I'm glad to know where we stand, Mike," Representative Heller said sharply, "but unless I talk to someone in charge soon about what's going on at Wilshire Memorial, the next thing that's on my list of priorities to do is speaking with someone from the press. And I have a feeling they'll be a lot warmer to me than you are."

Realizing the corners that the Congressman had backed him into, Mike turned back to Lynn. "Would you give us a moment, please?"

As soon as Lynn was out of earshot, "All right, Mr. Chairman, what do you know?"

"The same information that you do," Heller said smoothly. "That a group of Chinese extremists have taken control of a hospital in Van Nuys, during which they killed several people. They are holding the hospital hostage, pending the actions of the President."

"Has the media gotten a hold of the story?" Mike asked with a sinking feeling.

"Channel 7 picked up the story ten minutes ago. I imagine by the time this conversation is over, all the major networks will be covering it. These feeding frenzies begin very fast, and if you're not careful, we'll all be devoured by it."

"How did you get this story?"

"I talk to the same people you do," Heller told Mike. "Along with some voices the President won't listen to."

Mike cut to the chase. "What do you want me to say, Jim?"

"The terrorists are demanding that we repudiate the treaty we've all gathered to witness," Heller said just as bluntly. "I want to hear the President say that he's not about to do that."

Even though he'd been expecting something like this for the last fifteen minutes, it still hurt when he heard it. "Mr. Chairman, if we don't do what these people say, over five hundred people will be killed."

"What do you think is going to happen if we do what these people demand?" Heller countered. "You think they're just going to holster their weapons and say 'Thanks a lot; we surrender'? No, that hospital's going to be destroyed anyway, and the only thing that will have happened is that our foreign policy will have taken a blow that it can never recover from." Heller looked at Mike. "And I know that you know that, too."

"Even if I disagree with the President's decision -- and I'm not saying that I do-- it is still his decision. Now you may be auditioning for David Palmer's job, but you don't have it yet. And you don't have the power to decide whether he's making the wrong choice."

"Yes, I do," Heller countered again. "It's called a ballot. And you can tell President Palmer this; if he decides to start bowing and scraping to the scum of the earth, I will make sure that foreign policy isn't the only place he'll take a hit." Heller started to walk away. "There are repercussions for a move like this, and he knows it."

And Mike knew that Congressman Heller was a man of his word.

**8:56:31/8:56:22/8:56:33**

The terrorist scanned the hallway carefully, wondering where his partner was in patrolling this hall. He raised his Uzi and pondered where to go. He had tried the bathrooms already, and checked the vending machines, and the man hadn't even answered his damn radio.

And there was another option, but it was too damned stupid to contemplate. A security guard playing cowboy, like some stupid western, or a doctor in hiding who had set up a tripwire somewhere. But that was unrealistic…even worse, it was stupid. They were all trained professionals, they had trained the armies in Sudan and worked with Al Qaeda in Iraq. The possibility that some stupid American would be able to get the drop on them—

His thought process was cut short as he felt a pressure around his neck. He dropped his Uzi as his hands flew to his throat, trying to relieve the pressure, but it only grew worse as his struggled. In fact, it literally lifted him off the floor. How could he not have seen…?

His eyes caught a bare glimpse of the murder weapon as he thrashed in its grip. He had walked into a noose of clear plastic tubing…

He was being strangled by an IV tube…

"Hey, an Uzi," came a voice off to the side. "And you even brought a silencer with it. That's really nice of you."

He thrashed towards the voice, and saw a white girl standing next to him, with his weapon! She hefted it, then brought it around, into his face, like a hammer—the last thing he ever saw.

Michael Mancini had promised Sydney that he would not reveal her presence to the people who now had control of his hospital. However, with three of those same terrorists beating the shit out of him, his resolve-- which admittedly hadn't been that great in the first place-- was weakening very rapidly.

"You're a non-combatant, doctor," the one who was apparently in charge told him. "This isn't your fight anyway. Just tell us what we want to know, and the pain stops."

"I-- don't know—what you're—talking about--" Mancini managed to gasp out before the terrorist on his left grabbed him and slammed his head into the desk.

"That is a lie, doctor," The inquisitor indicated to the others to pick him, and raise his head so that it was level with his. "We have little use for you to begin with, and your value becomes even smaller to us the longer you tell these falsehoods."

"I'm -- telling the-- truue—ahh!!" The terrorist on the right had removed a knife and drawn a big slash on his left forearm."

"We know the most sensitive places to cut a man." His interrogator's calm demeanor somehow made the experience to worse. "And unless you tell us how many agents from your government are in your hospital, we will put you through surgery of your own. Without even a local."

He nodded to both his men who laid him down flat on the floor, and instructed one terrorist to hold Mancini's legs, the other to hold his arm.

"Where shall we cut next? Shall we continue to work on your arms, perhaps your face, or maybe, " he stood over Mancini's body, and "we should work on your testicles."

As any of his numerous ex-wives could have testified, Michael Mancini's dick had gotten him into immense amounts of trouble before. This time, it was the simple action of a blade coming within three inches of it to start Mancini singing like the proverbial canary.

"All right, all right!" he shouted. "There's an agent in the hospital right now!"

Sydney had gained the advantage in the fight with one of the terrorists who had come after her, and was now holding a scalpel half an inch away from the man's eye.

"How many of you are there in this facility?" she demanded in Cantonese.

The terrorist had balls, he still wasn't talking.

"I know you speak English," Sydney said in a harsh whisper, "but I'm going to pretend your continued silence is because I haven't hit the dialect you speak. So, I'm going to give you one more chance," she lapsed into Mandarin "who is the leader of this attack?"

She got an answer, but it definitely wasn't from the place she had expected. Her prisoner's walkie-talkie crackled with static.

"Agent Sydney Bristow!" the voice on the other end said in flawless English. "I know you're in this hospital, and that you've killed at least one of my men! I admire your fortitude, but now I'm giving you an order: either answer this message, or listen as the people in the critical care wing start to die!"

**8:59:57/8:59:58/8:59:59/9:00:00**


	4. 9:00 AM TO 10:00 AM

**Chapter 4**

**The Following Takes Place Between 9:00 A.M. AND 10:00 A.M.**

Once Sydney heard the message over the walkie-talkie, she knew that she had only a couple of options still remaining.

She could pretend that she hadn't heard it, go back into the air ducts, and resume picking off the remaining hostiles. The terrorists probably would start killing hostages, but the cold, hard truth was they were probably going to do it anyway, if the President didn't give in to their demands. .She could surrender herself to the hostiles, thus temporarily saving their lives at the almost certain cost of her own. Or --

She clubbed the back of the terrorist's head with the back of her gun, knocking him unconscious. She looked at the walkie-talkie, and decided against it. She picked up a hospital phone from the wall, and dialed the front desk.

Hsu Kar-Wai picked up the phone. There was only one person in the building that would be using the phone like that—and the line traced directly back to the extension she was using. He pointed to the readout and then to two of his men, sending them after her.

"I've already killed two of your men," she began. "Another one's life is in my hands, which means you're running out of men. You might be able to hold this hospital for a little while, but you most assuredly won't keep it much longer, and you certainly won't be able to kill everyone in this hospital."

He blinked. What sort of lunatic was this…this…woman? "Your President is going to give in to our demands. At this juncture, you are currently a greater risk to our hostages than we are."

"I don't think so. And even I did, there's no way that I'd willingly stick my head in the lion's mouth."

American arrogance, they were all alike. "There are thirty-five people in this area of the hospital. Are you willing to sacrifice all of their lives?"

"You start killing them, you're going to lose any collateral you have with this government," Sydney pointed out. "Your call as to which is the greater sacrifice."

The telephone clicked off. Hsu Kar-Wai, however, knew that if she had killed three of his men, she would have access to their communications. He growled in frustration and picked up his walkie-talkie. "Everyone to secondary frequencies, _now_."

Two of Hsu's men swept the floor with their weapons as they stepped into the hallway. Their assault weapons were at eye level, and they were both decidedly pissed. They had the extension number of the phone, and its precise location. They knew that it wouldn't be accurate by now, but she couldn't have gotten far—but they had to sacrifice caution for speed if they wanted to catch her.

They two of them dashed through the hall, splashing through a puddle on the floor, as though a janitor had spilled an entire economy sized bucket of water as the hospital was taken over.

Before they could sweep through an office door, two objects leapt out the door and into the puddle in the hall…neither one had time to notice that they were charged defibulator paddles.

The results were simply shocking.

Sydney unplugged the machine and made sure both gunmen were dead before she got back into the ventilation unit and dialed another number on her cell.

"Almeida."

"Bristow. Where's the cavalry?" she bluntly demanded.

"Our surveillance of the hospital has confirmed that each of the entrances to the hospital is lined with plastic explosives to bring down the surrounding walls," he told her. "We use conventional means, they could take the whole hospital down."

"Please tell me that you've been working on a contingency plan?"

"We haven't, but your friends at APO have been working on a way to get inside," Tony told them.

"How long will it be until they're ready to make their move?" Sydney asked.

"According to their best estimates, some time with the next half hour."

**9:04:25/9:04:26/9:04:27**

At that very moment, Nadia was just about ready to start climbing up the drainage pipe.

"Obviously, you're not going to be able to maintain communications while in the pipe, " Jack reminded her. "So this is all going to be on you."

Nadia was taping the charges to her vest. "I know that, Jack, you seem to keep forgetting that this was my idea," she gently pointed out. "Or is the fact that I'm in my underwear covered with grease forming a slight distraction?"

Nadia wasn't sure, but she thought Jack almost blushed. He covered by immediately going back to business. "Just get the charges laid down and get out," he told her. "The rest can keep until we're off the clock."

"I hate to break up this tender interlude," Vaughn said, from aboveground, "but Sydney's probably going to need our help by now."

Nadia bent down, and prepared to squeeze herself up the pipe. As she did so, Jack's phone rang. "This is Bauer."

"Jack, we may have a problem," Sydney said without warning.

"Syd, where the hell are you calling from?" Jack said, indicating that Nadia should continue to move.

"The ventilation system above the second chemical lab. Only I'm no longer sure that staying hidden is my best option."

Now Jack was starting to feel uneasy. "What are they doing?"

"The terrorists know that I'm in the building. They've threatened to start killing hostages unless I surrender myself."

"How did they even find out you were in the building?"

"I killed two of their men…to start with."

Some of Jack's frustration came out. "Christ, Sydney, what part of keeping a low profile don't you understand?"

"I was more interested in saving the lives of the patients of this hospital, and since it seemed that you weren't rushing out to save their asses, I figured I'd have to do it myself," Sydney paused "I guess you could say I pulled a Jack Bauer."

"Now is not the time to start sucking up," Jack told her. "What happens when they start killing hostages? Something that they might well consider doing, now that they think we've betrayed their trust?"

"They start killing people before the deadline is up, they lose the only coin they have to negotiate with," Sydney pointed out. "Besides, they'd call you saying you betrayed their agreement. That's standard operating procedure for this kind of scenario."

"Sydney, does this particular bunch of terrorists strike you as if they're doing things by the book?" Jack argued.

In point of fact, this exact thought had occurred to Sydney a half-hour ago, when she had seen that the hostiles weren't making any effort to try and secure some of the more infirm patients. But she didn't think that this particular insight would grant her much headway against Jack. Instead, she went back to the question she would have asked first. "When and how are you coming in?"

"Right now, it appears that the only access point to the hospital is through a drainage pipe the hospital uses to dispose of surgical waste," Jack told her. "We intend to widen the points of entry so that we can send a small assault team inside the back door."

"Wait a minute: you're going to blow a hole in the sewage pipe?" Sydney said apprehensively. "Won't that make a lot of noise?"

"Maybe, but since the terrorists already know we're there, it probably won't come as that big a shock."

Jack was picking a lousy time to hold a grudge, but she guessed that she had earned some of his hostility. "How long do you think until you're in?" she asked

"Around twenty-five minutes," Jack said, looking at his watch

"Anyway I can help you in here?"

"Just try not to get yourself killed." Some imp made Jack add: "Otherwise, I think you've done enough."

And before Sydney could protest, Jack hung up.

**9:11:02/9:11:03/9:11:04/9:11:05**

"Mr. President, your brother says he needs a few minutes of your time."

"Send him in," the President told Lynn.

Wayne walked into the office of the retreat that the President was using as a command center.

"Tell the National Security Adviser that statements to the press are hardly things that he should be concerned with," the President said into the phone. "Right now, my point of view is the only one that matters, and I'm not saying anything that could endanger the lives of the people in that hospital."

The President hung up and turned his attention to his brother. "Congressman," he said.

"Mr. President," Wayne responded facetiously "How good of you to set aside our differences for the sake of the party."

A brief smile crossed David Palmer's face. "Maybe I'm just glad to see a friendly face."

The smile disappeared from Wayne's face. "My face might be friendly, the news I have is not." Wayne paused. "David, I just had a brief conversation with James Heller."

"I didn't think he'd try to come at me this way."

"You postpone the signing of the treaty, but you refuse to tell anyone in the press your reasons," Wayne said. "Then twenty minutes ago, the networks start reporting about a hostage crisis in a hospital in Van Nuys. The press has connected the dots, and they're really pissed off that you're treating them this way. What did you expect would happen?"

"I can deal with the media, Wayne."

"I know you can. Heller is a different story. Look," Wayne made sure the door to the office was shut before walking over to his brother. "Heller's been talking to the delegation, both Republicans and Democrats, telling them that he disapproves of the way you're trying to handle the situation, and that you cannot do so unilaterally."

The President was normally a very patient man, but now he could feel the first stirrings of anger. "The people of this country have elected me to lead this nation so that someone would have to deal with situations just like this," he said, walking from around his desk. "Congressman Heller clearly has forgotten the Constitution if he thinks otherwise."

"You know Heller better than that," Wayne pointed out. "The situation he is talking about is the treaty postponement. He's arguing that since Congress has already ratified it, this is yet another example of the executive branch running roughshod over the legislative when it comes to how policy is carried out."

"That's not what's going on here, and he is well aware of that!"

"Yes, he is, and you are. The public is not, and you and I both know that the public will think what the media tells them to think," Wayne argued.

"The public isn't that malleable, either," the President argued.

"Maybe not, but they listen to whoever speaks the loudest, and right now, James Heller is the one who's doing all the talking. Look, David," Wayne tried another tack. "How serious is the situation at Wilshire Memorial?"

The President looked at his watch. "If I, acting in concert with the Russian and Chinese premiers, don't make a statement repudiating the treaty in the next forty-five minutes, the terrorists say they will kill everyone in that hospital."

Wayne took this in. "Have you tried making contact with them since? Have you told them you're going to meet their demands?"

"CTU doesn't want any one in authority even talking to these men," David replied. "They say it will jeopardize any rescue operation that they're trying to make."

"So Heller's position is that you're going to capitulate to the enemy."

"If I don't, hundreds of people will die." David argued.

"If you do, millions of people will die." Wayne argued. "David, this country cannot negotiate with terrorists."

"Mike and Lynn made that argument two hours ago."

"Well, Mike and Lynn are smart people." Wayne paused deliberately. "Mr. President, if the United States government begins capitulating to terrorism, we won't be able to maintain foreign policy anywhere. Now I know that the leader of this country has to deal with foreign policy in a case-by-case basis. But the Presidency doesn't work this way. You have to know that by now, and you have to start thinking in terms of the bigger picture."

The President listened. "The treaty will have no meaning if it's signed with the blood of American lives," he finally said.

"David, the final decision is obviously yours," Wayne said. "I'm just reminding you that the ramifications will be huge whatever choice you make. I will support you politically no matter what course of action you follow. But if you don't make some kind of decision, you won't find much backing anywhere else."

David Palmer considered this for several seconds before turning on the intercom. "Lynn, I need to talk with the Tony Almeida at CTU," he said.

"Right away, sir."

"Wayne," the President told his brother, "it might be best if you try to separate yourself from whatever happens next. I know you've got a tough race next year; being associated with this can only make your situation worse."

This was a situation that Wayne had wanted to deal with earlier, but he knew that this was the last thing the President needed to hear now. "You just do what you feel is in the best interest of our nation," he said instead. "It's how you always act."

With that, the Congressman walked towards the door.

**9:19:50/9:19:51/9:19:52**

Hsu Kar-Wai was getting incredibly frustrated. When Sydney Bristow had refused to surrender herself and the terrorists had come across two of her victims, he had decided to execute one of the patients in the ER. However, a split second before he could pull the trigger, he had received a phone call. Not from Wang, but rather from the mysterious man who was sponsoring their venture.

"I understand that there is a government agent in the hospital," he said with no preamble.

"How did you know?" Hsu asked.

"I have my own sources," was all he would say. "You're not going to do anything stupid, are you?"

"This entire operation could be compromised, and this is what you're calling me about?" Hsu said.

"Today's events have been in the works for quite some time, and the people in that hospital are irrelevant in comparison with the bigger picture."

"The President has postponed the treaty signing," Hsu argued. "They're going to capitulate!"

"You did hear what I just told you about the bigger picture?" the voice said with an arrogance that made Hsu wish he could choke the man through the phone lines. "Speaking of which, where are you in obtaining the secondary protocol?"

Hsu knew better than to argue with his employer. "It's in the hospital, but there's been an added level of security. Tsai is in the process is getting the keycard as we speak."

"Good."

"If you don't want me to kill any of the hostages, what am I supposed to do about the agent that's killing my men?" Hsu demanded.

"Who is this agent that's causing you so much trouble?"

"Her name is Sydney Bristow."

The name had meant nothing to Hsu, but it clearly shocked his superior into silence.

"Listen to me very carefully," the voice with a decidedly cold inflection "Under absolutely no circumstances is any harm to come to Sydney Bristow. Her life is of greater value than any of your men, and I want you to convey that to your colleagues very closely. Understand?"

Hsu didn't, but he knew better then to argue. "Yes, sir."

"Call back when you're ready to proceed." And with that the caller hung up.

Just then, his walkie-talkie crackled.. "Yes?" he said abruptly.

"We have another problem."

_Tell me about it, _Hsu thought. "What is it?"

"We found the storage unit they're keeping it in, but there's some added security," Jin told him. "The key card that we've obtained won't be enough."

"What else are we going to need?" Hsu said resignedly.

"We need the thumbprint of someone on the project's hierarchy."

A pleasant idea had just occurred to Hsu. It was a little messier than what the situation called for, but it would help get some of the frustration he was feeling out of his system. "I'll send someone down with it in three minutes."

He ended the transmission, and turned his attention back to Dr. Mancini, who had missed the import of the last conversation because it had been in Cantonese.

"Hey, hey, I told you everything I know!" he said as Hsu yanked him to his feet again.

"Agent Bristow has apparently decided that the lives of the people in the hospital aren't worth saving," Hsu said as he indicated to one of his associates hold Dr. Mancini still. "It is clear to me now that we need to, as you Americans put it, up the ante."

Mancini's eyes widened at Hsu removed a knife from the inside of his jacket, and saw what he planned to do with it. "No!" he shouted as Hsu raised the knife in an arc. "Not there! I'll do anything you want, just don't cut my--"

The air was split with a high-pitched scream.

**9:26:32/9:26:33/9:26:34/9:26:35**

The acoustics in Wilshire Memorial, like in many other hospitals, were not particularly good. Nevertheless, the scream that Sydney had just heard, would have registered in Malibu.

For a moment, Syd wondered if this was in response to her failure to comply with the hostage-takers' directives twenty minutes ago. If this was the case, the terrorists were being awfully casual in carrying out their threats, but then again, these hostiles weren't playing by any rulebook Sydney had ever encountered. Then she thought that they might be trying to accelerate some kind of response from the President (she didn't believe for a second that President Palmer would acquiesce to their demands). Again, if this was what was happening, she thought they were going about this the wrong way-- when a major hostage crisis is becoming undone, you don't kill one man, you kill a bunch of them.

Then she realized it probably didn't matter much _why _the terrorists were killing one of the hostages. The fact was, they were, and it was her job as the agent on the inside to try and gather intel.

So gradually she began to make her way to the front of the hospital through the air ducts. However, on her way to the front, she stopped in her tracks when she saw two people talking near the corner of one of the labs.

"Will this meet your needs?" one of the figures said in Cantonese, while handing a blood-soaked handkerchief to him.

The second figure looked at it, and said: "It wouldn't have been a lot neater to just bring the guy down here," he replied.

"You want to argue with Hsu, you do it," the first figure told the other. "Your job is to get the merchandise as quickly as possible. I've got some more important business at the front of the building."

"All right," the second figure said a bit coldly, and the two parted company.

Sydney registered what they had said, but only gave it the slightest thought. What had stopped in her tracks was that she had seen, for the first time, the face of one of the terrorists, and was able to recognize him. And not from any Scarlet Circle watch list -- no, this was someone that she had met in the flesh.

She waited until both hostiles were out of earshot, and then dialed a number she hadn't had to use in awhile.

"Marshall."

"It's Sydney."

"Syd," Marshall seemed momentarily at a loss. "Not that it's not great to hear from you, but are you supposed to be crawling around in the air conditioning, doing you know, reconnaissance for CTU?"

"Yes, but a more pressing problem has arisen."

"Pressing how? Like there's a slight delay in getting the rescue mission working, or as in Rimbaldi-artifact-end-of-the-world-type crisis?"

"Somewhere in between," Sydney told Marshall. "Marshall, you've been working with Chloe on identifying the hostiles in the hospital?"

"Well, I wouldn't call it working together, I mean, not to speak to ill of a colleague and equal in this field, but you know Chloe can really act as if she's got a… you don't want my opinion, do you?"

"Not now, no." Sydney chose her next words carefully. "I've seen one of these people before."

"What do you mean?" Marshall asked.

"I need you to take the composites of the photos I took at CTU and run them through any leftover databases that you may have on our missions with SD-6. I'm pretty sure one of them is going to have a connection to me personally."

Now Marshall hesitated. "Now, I'm going to do this, Syd, because you say it's important, but are you really sure that you know one of these people from before?"

"Positive," Sydney assured Marshall. "You never forget the face of someone who's watching you get tortured."

**9:33:13/9:33:14/9:33:15**

There was probably some word in the English language that accurately describes the process of crawling through a seventeen-inch sewage pipe transported the offal and waste from hundreds of surgeries, but it was eluding Nadia. The closest that she could come to was _icky. _She hoped that she would get a chance afterwards to take a long, hot shower, and get the gunk and detritus that seemed to have permeated every pore in her skin off.

However, she was beginning to have serious doubts that was going to happen, even if this rescue operation was a success, and that was assuming a lot. She had successfully managed to place two of the timers in their designated locations. However, the last one was going to be the bitch, because it was closest to the inside of the hospital. If Marshall's silent explosives didn't work properly, the terrorists could be upon them in seconds, assuming they decide to just firebomb the pipe.

The one advantage to doing this one was the closeness to the entry meant that the pipe had widened out a bit, so she had more elbow room. Unfortunately, it was also the location where the surgical waste was exceptionally viscous, and moving around was a lot tougher. The tape she was using would have been ineffective, if not for another Marshall invention, a small glass container that fit under her armpit.

She taped the last of the explosive in place, set up the charge, and then started to make her way down the pipe. Perhaps, given the way things worked, it shouldn't have come as a surprise, when at a point slightly past halfway, the surgical gunk became too slippery, her knees gave way from under her, and she skidded on her ass, all the way back to the entrance of the pipe.

"Nadia!"

Swell. She had landed on her ass, covered in the remains and entrails of human beings, in front of her brother-in-law and fiancée, both with mixtures of amusement and disgust at her condition.

"Well, now I'm glad I didn't volunteer for this assignment," Vaughn said as he handed her a towel.

"I think it'll take a bath in the Pacific to get this smell out of my skin," Nadia said as she made the best of a bad situation. "Did I knock any of the charges out of place when I completed my lap of the pipe?"

Jack had just come back from checking. "No, all of them are still in place," he said.

"Good. I'd hate to be an idiot instead of just looking like one," She turned her attention to Jack. "How much time before we launch the attack?"

Jack checked the monitor. "Five minutes and counting," he told them.

"Then I think we'd better get locked and loaded," Vaughn said. "Cause if this explosive is silent or not, we're still going to make a lot of noise getting into the hospital."

**9:38:19/9:38:20/9:38:21/9:38:22**

Mike walked over to the President. "I just got off the phone with the majority whip," he told his boss. "He says he's received eleven calls in the last hour from people who believe that you're having second thoughts about a treaty he had to push uphill for five months before he had enough votes."

"I've known Howard for seven years," the President said with an air of fake joviality. "Is he trying to tell me that he has a telephone but not a television? He doesn't have a clue as to what's going on in Van Nuys?"

"He wants to know why you've made no effort to resolve the crisis or make an announcement to the press about what the hell you're going to do about it." Mike asked.

The President abandoned his attempt at humor. "I have to walk a very fine line right now," he told the President. "If I announce I'm postponing the signing treaty, I send up a red flag to every group of extremist world that the U.S. is going back on a decades-old policy. If I tell them I'm trying to resolve the crisis, the terrorists could take countermeasures that would undermine CTU's rescue effort."

"So we go on playing dumb?" Mike asked

"I just got off the phone with Tony Almeida," the President told his chief of staff. "He told me that a rescue effort is going to be launched within the next five minutes. I've met with both premiers; they've agreed to be patient a little longer. The media will forgive me for appearing to equivocate when we give a full explanation as to what had to be done to save the lives of the people in that hospital."

"There's going to be political fallout from this," Mike reminded the President.

"Right now, whether or not this will weaken my approval ratings within my own base is the least of my concerns," the President told him. "None of my opponents are foolish enough to come at me for trying to do the right thing. "

Mike knew that the President was more interested in doing the right thing than the expedient thing, and that he knew how to talk to the American people well enough so that he could win them over to his side. However, he knew that his opponents didn't always play by the rules, and that they could manipulate the media a lot more shrewdly than he did. For that, he needed the help of his staff.

So he simply asked his boss: "What can I do to help, Mr. President?"

"Tell the media that I will call a press conference in the next fifteen minutes," President Palmer told him. "Ask them for a little more patience and understanding. Call our friends in the House back, and tell them not to listen to James Heller's huffing and puffing."

"You sound pretty confident, sir"

"It's part of the job." Some lines of tension reappeared on his face. "I have to look that way, even when the outcome is uncertain."

**9:42:09/9:42:10/9:42:11**

"Everyone's in position," Tony said to Sydney. "We're ready to start the count."

"What do you need me to do?" she asked.

"You've already creating something of a distraction for the terrorists," Tony said. "Now would be an excellent time to do some more of it."

Sydney decided the time for even fake secrecy had passed, and climbed out of the ventilation system to the floor. She readied the assault rifle that she had taken from one of the terrorists. "On it."

"Good. T minus one minute and counting." Tony ended the call and Sydney walked about fifty yards away from the administrative desk of the hospital.

At the present moment there were roughly two dozen people gathered near in a group near the area she had left nearly two hours ago. There didn't seem to be any additional corpses, although all of the people near the front looked exceptionally frightened. She still counted only three hostiles, armed what appeared to be Z85 assault rifles, all pointed at the huddled masses.

She ducked behind a wall, checked the clip of her assault weapon, as well as her Gock, then looked through the sight. _Five… four… three… two… one!_

She fired three shots at the hostile closest to her. The exact instant the terrorist head's disappeared, there was a sound of an explosion unlike Sydney had ever heard in her years in espionage-- it was both extremely loud, yet somehow it sounded muffled, as if she were hearing it in vacuum.

The combination of the muffled 'boom' and the death of their colleague was enough to throw the fear of God into one of the remaining hostiles. He whirled, trying to see in all directions at once, and while his head was spinning, Sydney managed to shoot him through the neck.

This was enough to finally cause the hostages in to a panic, and brought them all into a teeming crowd. The terrorist, who Sydney could now clearly identify as Hsu Kar-Wai, saw the ruins of his ambition around him. He pulled out a remote control, which Sydney knew was going to detonate the explosives, and there was no way that she could get a shot off without killing several innocent bystanders.

She was about to try and shoot over the hostage, when suddenly a familiar voice yelled: "Drop the remote!"

Hsu paid him no heed, and Jack Bauer shot him in the head.

Sydney quickly made her way through the crowd. "Give me your radio," she ordered Jack without preamble. Jack didn't even hesitate.

"Attention all units! " Sydney said, breaking into a run down the far side of the hospital. "Be on the look out for a hostile in the easternmost section of the hospital with a blue jacket with a green cap, approximately six feet tall. Do not use lethal force in subduing! Repeat, _do not _kill hostile!"

And just as Sydney ran into the east hallway, she saw the man that she was looking for, hauling ass towards the other end of the hospital.

Sydney fired two shots from her Glock, but either she missed or the man was wearing heavy Kevlar, because he didn't even break stride. Sydney was about to aim for his knees when she saw another familiar face-- her sister, who looked as if she'd been crawling through a graveyard.

"Don't kill him!" Syd yelled at her.

Nadia, who was on his left, heard and fired two shots into the man's kneecap. That did the trick; he collapsed like a ton of bricks, howling.

"You care to explain why I just did that?" her sister asked, as she got out her cuffs.

"We need to interrogate at least one of these bastards, and I think I can ram the fear of God into this one," Sydney said as she approached the prisoner.

"So," Nadia as she got the man to his feet, "how's it feel getting out of the office?"

Sydney managed a shrug. "Could be worse." She looked at her sister's dirty condition. "I could have been out here."

**9:50:41/9:50:42/9:50:43/9:50:44**

Given all the work the terrorists had put into securing Wilshire Memorial, when they finally managed to gain entry, the combined forces of CTU and APO managed to dismantle Scarlet Circle's attack plan in a little more than five minutes. The plastic explosives that had kept them from entering the building were safely removed in less than two minutes.

"All the hostiles have been killed or captured, " Jack told Tony and Michelle.

"I count nine civilian dead, probably two dozen smaller injuries caused when everybody started rushing for the exits a few minutes. We got off lucky."

"Well, that's good to know," Tony said, "because I just got off the phone with Driscoll. She wants Sydney to debrief back at Division."

"She does understand that this raid would never have worked without Sydney on the inside?" Jack said exasperatedly

"Yeah, but you know Driscoll. Her idea of being understanding is not having Syd brought back in restraints." Tony sighed. "Right now, I've got another concern. We've identified all of the terrorists that were killed in the raid. Most of them were low-level mercenaries, with the exception of Kar-Wai. However, there isn't any sign that Li Chen Wang was one of them."

"I'll tell you something that's even less comforting," Jack responded. "We identified thirty-seven terrorists at Cayuga Air Field this morning. Our teams have only located eleven hostiles involved in this action."

"That means that Wang must have kept the others in reserve for some kind of larger strike," Tony said. "Did you manage to get anything off the bodies?"

"Lot of PDAs and cell phones. Kim's heading back to APO to help Marshall start piecing through them. I've also arranged for them to text the data stream to CTU."

"What about the hostile that you and Sydney managed to take prisoner?" Tony asked.

Jack brought up his PDA. "His name is Jin Wu, a low-level mercenary associated with several minor criminal operations throughout the Far East. I don't know why Sydney insisted on sparing his life instead of any of the others."

"You think he and Syd have a history?"

"Maybe. Right now, he's probably our best chance at figuring out where Wang is and what else he has planned." Jack hesitated. "I'm going to recommend to Division that we hold off debriefing Syd until we figure out what this connection is."

"Bottom line, Jack," Tony asked. "Can I tell the President to go ahead with signing the treaty?"

"Tell him the crisis at the hospital has been resolved, and that there is nothing to be gained by delaying the treaty's being signed." Jack hesitated. "However, we'd be doing him a huge disservice, if we were to tell him that we're still not in some kind of state of emergency."

**9:55:18/9:55:19/9:55:20**

Vaughn had been so busy making sure that the hospital was finally safe that he hadn't actually seen his wife until now. He considered being reserved and low-key when he saw her. That resolve lasted exactly five seconds.

"Syd!" he said as grabbed her by the shoulders, embraced her and kissed her. "Why the hell did you have to make the 'no sex' threat two hours ago?" he asked facetiously. "Now I have no suitable punishment, and I'm pretty sure this tops not telling you about a mission you didn't have clearance to hear about anyway."

"Yeah, I think you win this contest," Sydney said, just enjoying her husband's warmth for a few moments.

"You're not the only person she owes an apology to."

Sydney turned around to see her father standing a few feet away. "Dad, you know as well anyone that no one could have foreseen this," she said, turning around but not leaving her husband's side.

"I'm well aware of that," Mr. Bristow told her. "Which is why I'm going to call District, and have them supersede Driscoll's cries for your head until we can resolve this situation."

"How'd you manage that?" Sydney asked that. "Isn't the crisis over?"

"You don't believe that," her father said. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have gone to such lengths to keep one of the hostiles alive."

"There's something more serious planned," Sydney said, "but that's not the main reason I kept him alive." She paused. "Have you identified the hostile?"

"If you don't know who he is, why'd you tell Nadia to keep him alive?" Vaughn asked.

"I never knew his name, " Sydney said, "but I'd never forget his face." She looked at him. "He was the participant on the first mission I took after Sloane had Danny killed." Sydney looked at him. "He held me down the first time I was captured on an SD-6 mission. He's not Chinese…not technically…he's from Taiwan."

Neither Vaughn or Jack Bristow's face changed, but Sydney knew them both well enough to know she'd surprised them. "What's he doing here?" her father asked.

"I don't know," Syd admitted, "but I think it's a lot bigger than one hostage crisis."

The majority of the authorities were concentrating on the front of the hospital, and the central corridors. So no one noticed when two men wearing biohazard masks walked up to a locked door near the back exit, swiped a keycard through a locked door, and then pressed the print of a still-warm thumb on a computer pad.

A steel door that would have been more suited for a safehouse opened and one of the men walked inside. He walked towards one of boxes labeled 'CAUTION-- BIOLOGICALLY DANGEROUS MATERIAL', opened it and very delicately removed a steel rack containing several sealed test tubes.

"This is it," he said in Cantonese.

The other man dialed a number on his cell. "We have the package. We'll meet you at the rendezvous point."

**9:59:57/9:59:58/9:59:59/10:00:00**


	5. 10:00 AM TO 11:00 AM

Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**The Following Takes Place Between 10:00 A.M. and 11:00 A.M.**

"At this time, I would like to personally apologize to the members of the press and to the American people for my apparent hesitation in regards to the signing of this treaty," President Palmer told the assembled press corps. "But given the volatility of the situation, I believe that I had the country's best interests at heart. This is an important day, not only for this country, but for people all over the world, and I would not have it stained with the blood of innocents. I thank you again for your patience, and would be grateful if you would now join myself, President Suvarov, and Premier En Lai, in the southern yard for the formal signing in ten minutes."

With that, the President left the podium, with the press corps walking out the main exit.

"Not my most eloquent hour," the President told his chief of staff, "but at least it was the truth."

"Your honesty has always served you well, Mr. President," Mike assured his boss. "In any case, I think they'll understand that this wasn't a crisis of your own making."

"They might." The President gestured towards Congressman Heller. "He'll try and paint a different picture."

"As for Heller, this is going to hurt him a lot more than it hurt you," Mike told the President with a grim sort of satisfaction. "The public doesn't like it when Congress attacks the President; they like it even less when we are in a state of emergency.."

"I think you underestimate both the people and Heller, but I certainly hope that you're right this time."

By now the two men were walking by one of the situation rooms, and the President opened one of the doors.

"Is there anything else, Mr. President?" Mike asked as he walked inside.

"Well, now that we have a few minutes," the President said gently " I thought now would be a good time to tell me about those last couple of phone calls you got before we landed in Los Angeles. The ones that had you trying desperately to maintain your cool."

"You knew, sir?"

"I appreciate how you try to shield me from the uglier parts of this job, the parts that are more political than I like to deal with," the President told him, "but they're part of the job I was elected to handle."

"Allan Millikan has called me repeatedly over the past five days, saying that he needs to meet with you before you formally begin your campaign for reelection," Mike said without preamble.

"Why is he so determined to see me?" the President asked.

"He says that he'll only talk to you about it." Off the look of disbelief, he added "I guess being one of the your biggest contributors as well as being one of major defense contractors in the country has made him more arrogant when it comes to where he fits in the chain of command."

"When you operate in the backrooms as long as Allan has, maybe you forget how things are supposed to be run above board." The President exhaled. "When would be the best time to see him?"

"I think we can arrange to slip away from the retreat around noon."

"Me. Alone," the President insisted. "Or at least as alone as I can manage in my current condition."

"You sure that's a good idea, sir?" Mike questioned.

"He's gone to a lot of trouble to get my attention. I want this to be done as privately as possible. Allan represents a lot to my campaign. If I have a problem, I think he'll tell it only to me."

**10:05:41/10:05:42/10:05:43**

"We're not going have to get in some pissing contest with Division about whether our people or yours gets to interrogate Wu?" Jack asked Tony.

"Technically speaking, we have jurisdiction and our authority supersedes that of a unit that officially doesn't exist," Tony pointed out.

"Answer the question, Tony."

"Is your team prepped to do the on-site interrogation?" Tony countered.

Jack gave him a sarcastic half smile. "There should be more than sufficient material in a hospital."

"How long will it be until you can reach Director Chase?"

"Sydney's father is in the process of getting her now," Jack said. "Tony, can we do this or not?"

Tony paused. "You need to find a smoking gun," he told him. "Some kind of corroborating evidence that there's a larger threat in play."

Jack Bauer was considering this, when he saw something that he had missed in his initially view of the hospital. Only a small number of the hostages had been injured by the terrorists-- mainly cuts and bruises-- but there had only been one deliberate action. In addition to having taken a severe beating, Wilshire Memorial's chief of staff Michael Mancini had his left thumb completely severed from his hand. Why would someone d that, unless--

"What do we know about Wilshire Memorial?" he asked Tony.

"In regard to what?"

"There were hundreds of easier and more visible targets in Los Angeles that Kar-Wai could have chosen," Jack pointed out. "Why this hospital?"

Tony thought only a moment. "They came here to find something."

"Tell Division that we need Sydney here to help us question the staff of this hospital," Jack said. "That should buy us at least an hour. Long enough for us to get what we need out of Wu."

"I can sell that, but Jack, you'd better get something out of him, fast."

Jack hung up the phone, then looked around until he saw his daughter. "Kim!" he said as he walked over to her.

"What's our next move?" Kim asked as she walked up to her father.

"How much work would it take to set up an off-site unit to get in touch with Marshall?"

"Ten minutes, probably half that, if I can get in touch with CTU's server. Why?"

"Wilshire Memorial has something that these terrorists wanted," Jack asked. "I need you and Marshall to do some back checking into their records, see if you can find anything in the hospital's research grants or staff that would indicate why they came here."

Kim blinked, then glanced around. "I wondered that too…I suppose the barricade was a distraction, but Dad, this is a county hospital, not a biological laboratory. Hell, it's not even an aspirin factory."

"I know, but I can't see any other reason why they would hit this particular hospital," Jack admitted. "Besides, there are a couple of hundred people on staff. There could be one guy with an interest that nobody else knows about."

"All right," Kim said. "I'll tap into one of the mainframes. If there's something hidden in these records, Marshall and I can probably find it."

Jack put his hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Thanks,"

"Dad, about the prisoner that we're holding—" Kim started.

"What is it?"

"I just talked with Vaughn," Kim paused. "Sydney says that she knows him from her time at SD-6.".

A vague alarm went off in Jack's head. "How?"

"Dad, I know what you're thinking," she started, "but according to both Vaughn and Nadia, she specifically gave instructions that he not be killed. She also had numerous opportunities to take him out while in the hospital."

Jack blinked. "Really? Where is Wu being held now?"

"They're prepping a room for him now," Kim said. "Second floor, north wing. Follow the CTU jackets."

"Get started on that mainframe," Jack stopped for a moment. "Start your search with Michael Mancini. Kar-Wai and his men gave the guy a royal smack-down. Maybe they did it because he knew where the bodies were buried."

"I saw the guy," Kim said. "He even tried to grope me when he though I wouldn't notice."

Bauer's glance darkened, and his daughter smiled. "Don't worry, Dad, I used the finger lock you taught me when I was in high school. But, like I said, he doesn't seem like much."

"They cut off his thumb," Jack pointed out. "Even a rat bites when it's driven into a corner."

**10:13:03/10:13:04/10:13:05/10:13:06**

"You're sure about this?" Vaughn asked Syd as they finished securing "It's not that far from here to either home base. They'd be more equipped to handle this than a county hospital."

Sydney shook her head again. "The kit in my car has more than enough materials for a successful interrogation," she told him. "Besides, the bullets are still fresh in Wu's legs. I'm not giving him a chance to recover. Hell, we've done quicker interrogations."

"That's fine, but first you've got to explain something." Both agents looked as Jack walked up to them. "Why do you want to go at this guy so badly? What's your history with him?"

Sydney didn't even blinked. "Seven years ago, after Dann-- after my first fiancé was murdered, I learned the truth about SD-6 and Sloane's complicity in the Alliance. I was targeted for termination, and the only way that I thought that I could avoid was to complete the last mission that Slone had assigned. So I went to Taiwan, where in addition to my first ever contact with a Rimbaldi device, I met a very twisted scientist whose favorite method of torture was doing his best imitation of Laurence Olivier from _Marathon Man. _" Sydney paused. "He had several henchmen aiding him."

Jack nodded slowly. He had read her files, but somehow missed this part of Sydney's career. "And Jin Wu was one of those men?"

"Sydney, I thought you killed all of those people," Vaughn remarked.

"I thought I had, too." Sydney said. "But then again, I thought the good doctor was dead, and yet he survived to torture one of my friends. I guess I shouldn't be that surprised that another of those bad pennies has turned up even after all this time."

"Syd, are you sure that you're the right person to be interrogating him?" Jack asked.

Sydney gave a sarcastic smile. "Says the man who couldn't wait to be let back in the same room with Nina Myers." She saw Jack wince and changed tones. "I'm sorry, that was an unfair comparison. Jack, if it was Arvin Sloane, you'd have due cause to be worried. There is no way I could be reasonable when faced with that bastard. "

"You're right, it's different," Jack argued. "If it had been Sloane, he wouldn't even have made it to interrogation. But you're right, by comparison this guy's a cockroach. So why did you let him live when there were other suspects to talk with?"

"Though I didn't know it when I went to Taiwan," Sydney began. "The people involved were a small thing that ended up being tied to the tail of a dragon. Now, while it's possible that Scarlet Circle chose to attack this hospital for the exact reasons they told the world, I know that nobody in this room believes that was the only reason."

Jack nodded. "And you think that this Jin Wu knows what this attack was all about?"

"I'm willing to bet that none of the people, including Hsu Kar-Wai, knew what it was really about." Sydney argued. "But my guess is that they know somebody who was pulling the strings for what's happening today. Now, if we'd taken any of the others prisoners, we'd probably have to dick around until we found exactly what buttons to push to get the answers we need."

"And you think that because you have a history with this guy, you can find that button faster?" Vaughn surmised.

"Wu has a long rap sheet," Sydney said. "And this was a very long time ago in his career. He's probably forgotten who I was, at least in connection with that particular mission. But I think that I have a way to obtain all the information he's got. This just has to be done a specific way."

"Sydney, you're a great agent, but your experiences at interrogation have been extremely limited," Jack told Sydney. "What do you think you can get out of this guy that Vaughn or I can't?"

"You'll see," Sydney said coolly. "Just make sure the rooms properly set up, and when you bring in the kit, make sure there's a pair of pliers in the kit." She paused. "The duller, the better."

**10:19:22/10:19:23/10:19:24**

Jack Bristow had just finished a long conversation with Driscoll assuring her that Division's authority would not be undermined while APO was running point on the hospital. As was almost always the case, Sydney's father felt like that handling the paperwork for these things was a bigger headache than the actual crisis. So when Kim walked up to him, he was almost welcome to hear anything that had to do with the actual crisis.

"Mr. Bristow, I think I may have information about this hospital."

"In regards to what?" he asked.

"You're aware of what happened to Dr. Mancini?" Kim asked. "Well, assuming that they weren't cutting off his thumb just for fun, they probably wanted it to obtain some kind of security clearance somewhere in the hospital. As you know, there are a lot of government protocols where you can only obtain clearance with some kind of fingerprint scan. "

"Does Wilshire Memorial operate under any such protocols?"

"Not according to the public records," Kim admitted. "The use retinal cans for access to their microbiology labs, and the like, but no fingerprint based biometrics. Marshall's in the process of going through every intra- and outside agency search to find out if there may be something that we overlooked. But that's not what has me suspicious."

By now, Kim had walked back over to her laptop, and the elder Bristow followed. "I started a background check on the chief of staff to this hospital, and while he makes a good living running this place, I don't think the pay's that good."

"You found a money trail," Mr. Bristow said.

Kim rotated the computer to show him the monitor. "Mancini has a bank account in the Cayman Islands. One minute into my search, I found a series of deposits amounting to more than fifteen million dollars over the past two years. I've got CTU running back-traces to figure out where it came from."

"Don't bother," Sydney's father said flatly. "I recognize some of the transferred codes. This money came from a DARPA slush fund."

"Since when does the Defense Department sponsor county hospitals?"

"When they're doing something they want to hide in plain sight. How long will it take for you to figure out who sent the money?"

"I'm not _that_ good behind a keyboard," Kim said. "The reason I found things this fast is because Mancini was sloppy when it came to protecting the money on his end. If you want me to start traipsing through the Defense Department's back channels, I'm going to need at least another thirty minutes."

"Why bother going through the back door when we can go in the front?" Mr. Bristow asked. "Contact Defense using our call sign, and ask about any program they have involving Wilshire Memorial Hospital."

"You don't think they'll put us through some kind of runaround?"

"Given what's already happened today, I think they'll be falling over themselves to cooperate—especially given that they should know that their precious doctor had been taken hostage."

Kim screwed up her mouth a moment in thought, then nodded. "I've met Mancini. He was probably squealing to his DARPA contacts before the gunfire died down."

Mr. Bristow nodded, then took out his cell phone and dialed.

"Santos."

"Nadia, are you ready to get back to work?" he asked.

"I had a brief journey to the showers, so I'm ready, What do you need me to do?"

"I need you find Dixon and question Dr. Mancini about why Scarlet Circle chose to attack his hospital."

There was a pause on the other end. "Are you saying he was involved?"

"I'll be texting you the information in a minute; suffice to say, the good doctor has been less than forthright in telling us why the terrorists chose to single him out.

Nadia considered this. "How hard to you want me and Dixon to go at him?"

Now Jack Bristow paused. "From everything I've heard, Dr. Mancini isn't a hardened criminal. He might not even know all the details about what exactly has been going on." He hesitated again. "Go at him relatively soft at first."

"And if he gives us shit?"

"Grab his left hand, and start squeezing."

**10:26:12/10:26:13/10:26:14/10:26:15**

Chloe had gotten the thankless job of going through the hospital's security footage to see if there was something that they had missed while Wilshire Memorial had been besieged, in case there was something that APO had missed. She had been about to voice her complaint about what she was seeing, when something came up about ten minutes before the hospital had been stormed. She had since done some quick searches and found several disturbing things about the footage that were starting to unnerve her.

"Michelle, I think I've got something," she told her supervisor. "Sydney mentioned that there was some kind of handoff between two of the hostiles."

"What've you found?" Michelle asked.

Chloe keyed up the footage from one of the footage until one good get a clear look at both figures. "The man on the left is Jin Wu, but the man on the right doesn't match any of the dead terrorists we recovered."

"So the terrorists had someone on the inside in the hospital," Michelle surmised. "Do we have any idea who this guy was?"

"I just finished cross-referencing with the staff of Wilshire Memorial," Chloe followed up. "According to the records, his name is Doctor Benjamin Lee, one of the hospital's research fellows. "

"What do we know about this Lee?"

"That's just it. The only Benjamin Lee that I found in the AMA database is the head of the Emergency department at Mary Magdalena in Atlanta." Chloe paused. "He passed away a year ago."

"How did he die?" Michelle asked.

"An automobile accident out in Marietta, Georgia. Cause of death was recorded as a DUI, but the M.E's report had Lee's blood alcohol at less than half the legal limit. "

Michelle considered this. "Chloe, now is not the time to be coy. If you think that you've got something, now's the time to say it."

"I'm not going to know anything for certain until I get the photos back from the Georgia State police," Chloe said carefully, "but I think that somebody killed this man so they could have his name and credentials."

Tony walked on to the floor. "I just spoke with Sara. We've got another problem," he said abruptly.

"Yeah, because we don't have enough of those today," Chloe said snidely.

"APO just did a background check on the hospital Chief of staff," Tony told them, ignoring Chloe's comment. "Sara just confirmed that he's been receiving large sums of money from the Department of Defense."

"For what?" Michelle asked.

"We've got people here and at APO looking into it, but if Defense was willing to pay millions to do this, I'm betting it has nothing to do with curing the common cold." Tony shrugged. "Michelle, get on the phone with whoever we have at DARPA."

**10:30:59/10:31:00/10:31:01**

When Sydney looked at Wu's face when she entered the operating theater, she didn't see any hint of recognition. She knew it wouldn't last. If this thug didn't give her what she wanted fast, he was going to remember her very quickly.

Considering that Wu had been effectively hobbled by Nadia, tying him up was probably superfluous, but there he was: arms and legs tied to a surgical bed. There would be a little less maneuverability then there would be in an interrogation, but Syd was counting on the claustrophobic nature of the room to work in her favor.

"I know that you speak English," she said in Cantonese as she approached the prisoner, "but I'm gonna see if, when I start in on you properly, what dialect you'll be screaming obscenities. I'm just telling you," she switched to English, "when things start to really hurt, you go ahead and go for broke."

Wu had a look of stoic defiance on his face. "You will learn nothing from me", he said in heavily accented English. "I am willing to die."

"I think you're wrong about that," Sydney said as she removed some acid from the kit. "See, I'm not convinced that you and your people came here intending to die for your cause. Otherwise, you'd have attached the explosives to your vest, and triggered the explosive when I was chasing you down." She found the entry point in his left knee. "At the very least, you would've eaten your gun when I got to you. No, you want to live. You definitely want to survive."

Sydney then poured the acid over the bullet wound. Wu let out a scream of pain that echoed throughout the suite.

"They really didn't want me working on you," she said as if the scream had never happened. "They think I'm all wrong for this part of the job. I feel too much empathy, even for the enemy." She removed a combat knife. "And I've been tortured often enough that I lack the capacity to do what is necessary, even to the most heinous of villains. And, normally this would be true. But, even in my case, there are exceptions."

She entered the blade in the wound, turned it forty-five degrees to the left, and held it in that position for ten seconds before yanking it out. Wu was practically howling in pain.

"Now, there's an easy way, and a hard way to do this." Sydney said through her teeth. "The easy way starts with me asking you who Hsu Kar-Wai and the others were working for, why you attacked this hospital, and what your primary objective for today really is. You start telling me these things, I give you some morphine and we start treating these wounds instead of trying to infect them. "

By now, the pain had passed from Wu's face. "I am a soldier in a great army," Wu said. "And you won't kill me because I'm all you have left. Whatever the hard way is, I can take it."

Sydney had figured it would come to this. "You really don't understand your situation," she said as walked to the kit and removed the instrument she needed. "See, your definitely going to survive today. The question is, when I'm finished, will you consider it worth living?"

She paused. "You see, Jin, you obviously don't remember, but we've met before—it's probably the hair. Remember Taiwan? Seven years ago? Pink hair? You worked with a man in a white coat who wanted my intel. In order to get it, he used one of these."

When Wu saw the pliers, a look of horrified recognition came to his face. Sydney couldn't help but feel a bitter sort of satisfaction at this

"This is the hard way, and you're about to see how this works from the other end of the looking glass," Sydney whispered "Last chance, why did you attack this hospital?"

Wu started to hyperventilate. "I don't know!" he shouted. "Hsu told us that this was enough of a high probability target! There's nothing special about this place!"

.It was a huge part of Sydney's job for her to read people, and she could see how terrified the prisoner was. She could also tell he was hiding something.

"Wrong answer," she whispered.

Wu clamped his mouth shut, so Sydney swung the pliers down on his wound. When he opened his mouth to scream, she darted in with the pliers, and grabbed one of his front teeth, and began yanking-- deliberately not as hard as she could. The tooth began to come out slowly, and Wu was literally howling in pain.

"This is the real reason you wanted an expert, " she said slowly. "With your doctor friend this would go quicker."

**10:38:48/10:38:49/10:38:50/10:38:51**

A hospital is not built with the same soundproofing you get at a government facility, and even though the surgical wing where Sydney was working on Wu was nearly three hundred feet away, howls of pain were still audible in the area around the reception desk. Despite this, Nadia was still pretty sure that the reason Mancini was so jumpy had everything to do with the questions she had been asking him.

"I think that I had better call my attorney before we go any further," he was telling her for at least the third time.

"I don't know what kind of flashy California legal mind you've got on retainer," Nadia told him darkly, "but Perry _Mason_ couldn't get you out of the mess you're in. You've been taking money from the Defense Department for two years and not reporting it to the IRS. At the very least, you are guilty of tax fraud on a massive scale. As a federal officer, I could take you into custody right now."

"But, your job is connected to terrorism," Mancini was starting to sound a little frantic now. "I'm not like that. The money was a kickback from a research grant."

"I don't believe you," Nadia told Mancini, "and even I did, what kind of research would a county hospital be giving to Defense?"

"I don't know. They told me that the project was classified to only the highest levels of government. The people who approached me about it were only middlemen. They didn't know all the details, either."

"And you didn't think to mention any of this to us when a group of terrorists showed up on your doorstep?" Nadia sneered. "You didn't even bother to tell anybody about the high security checkpoints that are in your own hospital?"

"They insisted on the upgrades a year ago," Mancini was backpedaling now. "Besides, the terrorist never mentioned anything about that research."

Nadia was tired of dancing with this weasel, and though she thought that half an hour in APO's custody would have him singing like a canary, she didn't want to waste anybody else's time. So she walked over to Mancini, dropped her hand around his hand, and slowly tightened her grip, steadily putting more pressure on it.

"You've got till the count of five to start telling me in detail what Defense wanted your hospital for," she said in a throaty whisper. "Otherwise, I'm gonna rip your hand off, and shove it up your backside. One-- two-- three-- four--"

"All right, all right!" Mancini managed to squeak out. "Three years ago, I was approached by a Defense Department liaison calling himself Simon Grady. He said he was responsible for selecting some private health organizations to work on a government project involving genetic research!"

"What kind of research?" Nadia demanded.

"He gave me a lot of paperwork, explaining the scientific concepts, but I had a lot of trouble following along. Finally, he said that it to do with making genetic alterations in order to better combat viruses that are being used by organizations like Al Qaeda. When I told him that a process like this had to go before our board, he asked me how much money it would take so that no one else in authority had to work on it. "

"And you just believed him," Nadia said doubtfully.

"Hey, I haven't trusted the government since I stopped believing in the tooth fairy," Mancini retorted. "But the guy was willing to pay me an obscene amount of money to have a couple of other people working on one project that took up one room in the hospital. I got mine, so who'd it hurt?"

Nadia was about to hold forth on how incredibly stupid this man had been, before realizing that it would probably be wasted on him. Besides, he had admitted enough to get himself sent to prison. He was theirs now.

"Where is this research being kept?" she demanded, releasing his had.

"The laboratory office closest to the back exit," Mancini said, trying to rub his hand as discreetly as possible.

Nadia walked away from the desk, and over to Dixon. "Contact CTU, and ask them about a defense contractor name Simon Grady, and his connection to a project having to do with genetic research," she told him.

"What the hell does Defense want with this hospital?" Dixon asked.

"I'm not a hundred percent sure, but it's sounding a lot like Defense was involved in genetic engineering some kind of viruses for combat duty," Nadia said. "Have Kim or Marshall come up with anything else?"

"Following a lead from CTU, Marshall thinks we've figured out that the man on the inside was Benjamin Lee, one of the research fellows. It's looking like Lee is a manufactured alias for Scarlet Circle use."

"Have you backtracked Lee to anyone specific?" Nadia asked.

"No, but they find one interesting tidbit. According to the medical records for this hospital Benjamin Lee, he had three plastic surgeries done over a six month period."

"You think this could be another example of the Helix project?" Nadia asked.

Dixon shook his head. "The two Lee's have different DNA, according to their hospital records. But I think the same principle applies: Scarlet Circle needed someone who would pass scrutiny with the board, so they killed and replaced him with someone who'd fit their needs."

As Nadia considered this, another yell of pain could be heard-- this one so loud, that several of the other hostages looked up uncomfortably at the sound.

"Sydney's throwing herself a little vigorously in interrogating this suspect, isn't she?" Nadia said with a half-grin, half frown on her face.

"If you're worried about the guy, you shouldn't have kneecapped him," Turning serious again, "I've known Syd a long time, and with one exception, I don't think I've ever seen her this keen to personally interrogate someone." No one had to mention who that other person had been.

"Well, she's probably got a damn good reason," Nadia said. "Look, I think we've gotten all the useful intel that we're going to get out of Mancini. Have somebody take him into custody."

"Whose?"

"I think the police will do for now," Nadia looked ahead. "Something's tells me were going to have a lot bigger fish to fry."

**10:50:11/10:50:12/10:50:13**

Normally, it takes a trained dentist five to six minutes to painlessly extract a permanent tooth. Sydney had taken twice as long (and with no anesthetic) to make sure the experience was as painful as possible. Now, she decided it was time to stop screwing around, and throw the far of God into this thug.

With one very sharp yank, she removed the front tooth from Wu's mouth. The second it was gone, he gave a scream that made his other shouts of anguish seem like positive whispers. Sydney paid it no more mind then she would have a ticking clock-- in a sense she had removed herself the entire process a while ago. She merely put the tooth on a small shelf, and turned her attention back to the prisoner.

"Now let me tell you," she said, "how this is going to work. I'm going to ask you thirty-one more questions. Each time you fail to give a more than adequate response, you get to go through all this fun again, only amped up significantly. When I'm finished asking my questions, I'm going to throw up my hands, and turn you over to the good people at Justice. They have enough cause to get the death penalty, but I'm going to make sure that you get life with no parole. They will send you to one of the many fine detention facilities we have for enemies of the state. You will be in solitary for the rest of your life, sipping your meals through a straw, stuck in a wheelchair rolling around, unable to have a coherent conversation with any of the few guards who are present. You'll probably try to kill yourself within the first three months, but I am going to insist that you get put on suicide watch, and that they keep you alive as long as possible. That is going to be my punishment to you. "

Sydney let Wu reflect on this for a whole thirty seconds. "Now, are you going to tell me what Kar-Wai were really doing here, or do I have to keep doing something I'm kind of getting a kick out of anyway."

Sydney gave him another thirty seconds of silence. "Hey, it's your mouth."

"All right, all right!" Wu shouted. "I'll tell you what I know!"

"What was the primary objective in attacking this hospital?" Sydney demanded as she put the pliers down.

"We were a Trojan Horse," Wu said. "Our job was to obtain a cache of genetically engineered viruses that were being stored in this facility."

"Bullshit," Sydney said. "Who would keep that kind of weaponry in a county hospital?'

"Some subcontractor for the Defense Department." Wu said. "Our man on the inside learned about the project over a year ago. We were to help him get through the security checkpoints."

"Once you obtained the virus, where were you going to deploy it?"

"When we arrived in California today, we were told that for greater security, we would be broken down into smaller cells, which each member of the cell knowing only about that group's primary objective," Wu said slowly. "The only ones who knew about the other cells plans were Hsu, and the inside man."

"Stop screwing around, and tell me who the inside man was," Sydney demanded.

"I don't know his name; all I know is that he worked at the hospital and was taking his orders directly from Li Chin Wang," Wu told him.

Sydney thought that she had gotten all the information that she could get out of Wu, but there was still one thing she needed to know. "Who commissioned this job?"

Wu suddenly got nervous. "It was strictly a Scarlet Circle operation."

"Scarlet Circle is strictly an Eastern Asian organization," Sydney reminded him. You wouldn't venture this far from home unless somebody with deep pockets arranged at least part of your mission. Now I want to know who, or I start working on another one of your bicuspids."

"All right1" Wu sputtered frantically. "I'll tell you."

**10:56:43/10:56:44/10:56:45**

Dixon walked up to Jack and Vaughn who were still waiting for Sydney to come out. "We think we know who Benjamin Lee is," he told both of them. "CTU took the security footage from the hospital of this Lee, and ran it through their facial recognition software. They didn't get any hits. However, after Marshall ran it through a facial reconstruction program he has on file," he took out on of the paper, "he got a face that looked like this."

"Who does it match?" Vaughn asked.

"See for yourself." Dixon showed them the papers.

"Son of a bitch!" Jack swore. "You're telling me that the head man behind Scarlet Circle's 's been in this hospital and none of us knew it?!"

"I've got our people sweeping the place now," Dixon told him, "but there was nearly an hour of lag time. There's a very good chance he just walked out the back door."

Before any of them could say anything else, Sydney emerged from the room, looking like she'd seen a ghost.

"Did he talk?" Vaughn asked.

"Oh yeah," Sydney told him. "Jack, I have to contact CTU, and I'm going to need you to contact the President. We're going to need the next five minutes he has."

"What did he tell you?" Jack asked

"That Scarlet Circle came to this hospital to obtain an advanced genetic weapon designed by the Department of defense, and that they probably got it while we were standing with our heads up our asses."

"Was that it?" Vaughn responded.

"Does it look like that's it?" Sydney responded. "He told me that the job was commissioned by an old acquaintance I wish would stay forgot." She paused. "Julian Sark."

_Undisclosed Location_

The man who had once was falsely assumed to be Dr. Benjamin Lee a year ago walked into the front door of the followed by several felons, white and Asian. He took the large case that he was carrying and put it on the ground.

"Start with the first vial," he said in Cantonese to a man in a white coat wearing protective gear.

While the case was being opened, he walked back outside at the building, and hit call on his cell phone. "We're at the first stop. We have the goods."

"Have you begun to wrap them?" a voice with an English accent that sounded cultured and dangerous.

."We are beginning now,"

"How long until the first one is ready for delivery?"

"Within the hour."

"Call me before you mail it," Julian Sark told Li Chen Wang.

**10:59:57/10:59:58/10:59:59/11:00:00**


	6. 11:00 AM TO 12:00 PM

Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**The Following takes place between 11:00 A.M. and 12:00 P.M. **

Terrorist incident aside, the ceremony had gone very well. The President had signed the document along with the two premiers, he had given away the pens, had stood for dozens of photographs, and had answered his share of questions.

However, when the press secretary had told the assemblage that the President was done for the moment, the press had, once again, swarmed around the Congressional delegation, specifically James Heller. In the part of Mike Novick's heart that wished ill for those who would oppose his boss, he had hoped the feeding frenzy that had started on the President would start devouring the Chairman. Unfortunately, now events had intervened so that he would not be able to witness this. For that matter, he would be lucky if Congressman Heller would be the smallest obstacle that they would have to overcome for the rest of the day.

"Mike?" Lynn told her boss. "We're ready in the situation room."

Mike nodded and tried to discreetly step behind the door. Inside the room, several of the monitors in the main room now showed people from CTU and APO, in addition to having several speakerphones.

President Palmer walked inside and heading towards the front of the table. "Mr. President," Mike told his boss, "we're on the line with Tony Almeida and Sydney Bristow from CTU. We also have Jack Bauer, Michael Vaughn and Marcus Dixon from the APO unit working out of Los Angeles. "

"Jack," the President said, "it's good to talk to you again. It's my understanding that it was your unit that helped resolve the crisis. This country owes you a debt of thanks, even if your unit doesn't officially exist."

"Thank you, sir," Jack said modestly. "I wish I could tell that this was the end of our problems, but it seems that the situation isn't over yet, Mr. President."

"We are still gathering intel," Tony told the assemblage, "but there is a high probability that the attack on the hospital was a cover for a separate raid on Wilshire Memorial in order to obtain a genetically-engineered virus that was being kept off site."

"Who engineered this virus?" Mike Novick asked.

"It appears that it was done by a division of the DARPA," Tony said.

"Why would the Defense Department arrange to keep a material that dangerous in a county hospital?" the President demanded.

"We don't have an answer to that," Jack admitted. "Right now, what we do know is that the project was funded by Defense Department official named Simon Grady and that it was handled under the project name Turquoise. We've had our top tech going over the data stream from DARPA. He should be ready to brief us now. Marshall?"

**11:04:26/11:04:27/11:04:28**

Marshall got naturally nervous when he had to brief a small group of minor authority figures—minor being anyone with more self assurance than he possessed, which happened to be of the population of the planet. The fact that he was now about to brief the head of CTU, two senior White House officials, and, oh yeah, the President of the United States, on a virus that was potentially one of the greatest threats this country had ever faced, had nearly completely paralyzed him. Not for the first time, he wished that Kim or Nadia wear nearby, because they were always good at keeping him on track. But they were in the field, so it was going to rest on him.

"All right, ah, Mr. President," Marshall began, "by the way, I'd just like to say what an honor it is to be, um, talking with you right now. I mean, I voted for you, and I really think that you're doing a great job, you know, as leader of the free world, and all."

"Marshall, " Sydney said gently. "Project Turquoise."

"Oh, right," Marshall folded his hands together. "Okay, this is a nasty piece of work. I've just gone over the lab work from DARPA, and quite frankly, it's rather disturbing, and I'm talking _The Hot Zone _scary, only without the Ebola-effected monkeys. The sample that I've examined, in and of itself, is more or less neutral, harmless." He reached for a water glass that was on the table. "Kind of like this, by itself, nothing, but add a little arsenic to it, voila, presto, lethal." He raced the glass to his mouth, considered his previous metaphor, then set it down on the table.

"Think of this as our sample, " He removed a fountain pen from his pocket, and shook it until a drop of ink hit the water. "And this is a little genetic modification-- specifically a chain of amino acids that coincide with a particular section on the DNA strand. This kind of modification will alter the sample into a very nasty virus, but one that will be type specific."

Marshall wasn't great at reading people, and he was even less good at doing so through telecommunications, but he could tell he wasn't getting through to them. "All right, say I wanted to kill, um," he lowered his voice. "Director Driscoll. I would take a drop of her blood, and put it into the sample, and it would turn into something like a cross between Ebola and the flu, only a lot nastier. However, it would only be lethal to her, everyone else could be fine—but everyone else would be a carrier. If she were at this meeting of Division, I could spray a bottle of this over them. Everyone else would be fine, and she'd buy it like the Wicked Witch of the West, 'I'm melting, _melllting_,' only the effects would be more Sam Raimi than—"

A great amount of foreboding was beginning to settle on the people at this meeting. "You're telling me this is a personal assassination weapon?" Jack asked.

"It can be, but only if you chose part of the DNA strand that is specific to that one person. Right DNA, you could target individual families, ethnic specific groups--"

"So what you're telling me is that a project that amounts to a bottled form of eugenics is essentially in the hands of terrorists?" President Palmer said slowly. "How much of this to do they have?"

"We don't know specifically," Sydney told the assembled people. "According to what we found on hospital property, they could have as many a dozen vials of this substance. We're trying to run casualty projections, but this new information makes it tough to make any kind of estimate."

There was a moment of appalled silence as this registered. "Mr. Almeida," Mike asked, "how did Scarlet Circle find out about this?"

"It's more complicated than that," Tony said. "That's the other reason we needed to brief you. After interrogating the lone survivor, we have high confidence that two men are probably behind today's attacks. One is Li Chin Wang, who we briefed you on earlier today."

"And the other man?" Lynn asked.

"It appears that it's Julian Sark."

You could have heard a pin drop in the situation room. "I thought that Sark was in a detention facility in Langley," the President said slowly.

The people at CTU and APO exchanged glances. How could the President not been told? Answer: because he had more things to do than the destiny of one prisoner.

"Mr. President," Bauer began, his tone businesslike and relatively casual, "Julian Sark was first let out of his detention cell in an attempt to detain Anna Espinosa, who at the time was a more serious threat. We managed to detain her, but Sark escaped during the mission. There's been a federal manhunt for him ever since, but he's been dark for the past two years."

"Some people presumed him dead," Sydney added, shaking her head as she remembered the aftermath, "but I figured we'd run into him eventually."

"What made you so sure?" Mike asked.

"In this business, it's the dead you have to always keep an eye out for."

President Palmer gave the screens a tight smile. "By that definition, we should be worried about Arvin Sloane."

Jack's face was perfectly neutral as he said, "Mr. President, of everything that can happen today, Arvin Sloane rising from the dead will not be one of them—unless he was able to scrape himself off the sidewalk after a sixty story drop into concrete."

"Well then, Jack, I expect you to handle Sark with equal…efficiency."

**11:12:06/11:12:07/11:12:08/11:12:09**

Congressman Heller left the press with his usual smile, but he knew there was little sense in pretending that this conference had gone as well as his last one. Given the successful resolution of the crisis at the hospital, and the inevitable ebbs and flows of the media's attention, the President was going to emerge from this crisis in a favorable glow, while he would be considered an ambitious parasite. The fact that the President _had_ handled the situation badly, and that Heller's comments and conferences with the minority leaders had been within his rights as Chairman, would not get filtered through the media's dependency on one-minute sound bites. He didn't have to take another meeting with his pollsters to know that he was going to take a hit, and probably a big one.

So when he received another call from his financiers, he thought that he knew what this conversation was going to be about.

"Yes," he said in an angry tone.

"James, we have a problem," Representative Logan said abruptly

"If you're going to chew me out for my latest press conference, don't waste your time. I was in the room, I know that I'm about to get covered in shit."

"That may be possible, but that's not what I called about," Logan said smoothly. "A couple of interesting items have just landed on my desk I received a phone call from Allan Milliken a little more than twenty minutes ago.."

Heller knew the significance of that name, and what it meant to the President. "What did he want?" he asked, lowering his voice.

"He wanted to know if you could arrange a sit down meeting with him, sometime this afternoon." Logan paused.

"And what would we be the topic of our discussion?" Heller asked, facetiously. "Does he have another missile contract that he needs to get pushed through committee?"

"Come on, Jim," Logan said. "This could be the move we've waiting for. Milliken's one of the President's top contributors."

"He's also one of _your _biggest contributors; don't you think that should tell you something?" Heller decided not to wait for an answer. "I'll call him, and I will set up a meeting, but don't expect more from him than dreams and air."

"You need to seize every opportunity you can," Logan told him. "And don't pretend Milliken isn't what he is."

"You said there were a _couple_ of things you wanted to tell me about," Heller spoke as though the subject was closed.

Logan sighed. "We've been receiving reports over the last couple of hours that Defense has been receiving inquiries about one of our projects. Thirty minutes ago, one of their analysts was brought in for a Q and A."

Heller had a bad feeling about this, too. "Which one?"

"Simon Grady."

"I've told you over and over, I don't want any part of any project that Grady was involved with," Heller said in a stage whisper. "He operates without any regard for checks or balances, and he's too busy playing dice with the universe."

"I don't need to tell how valuable Simon is in certain circles," Logan told the Chairman.

"No, you don't," Heller spoke dismissively.

"Nor do I have to tell you that he knows where too many of the bodies are buried. If he should talk to the wrong people at CTU, a lot of heads could roll." Logan paused deliberately. "You want it to come out how many black bag operations we've been involved in?"

Heller was tempted to let Grady fry regardless-- he had enough on his plate as it was-- but he knew that some of the jobs that the man had done in Defense were paramount to national security. And even though he was trying very hard to fill David Palmer's shoes, he didn't want to have to clean up future messes that could be avoided today.

"I'll make some calls, " he said reluctantly, "but no promises. You tell Grady to get some good attorneys; regardless of my position, he's going to need someone else in his corner."

Heller didn't know that Grady and his problems were about to supersede anything that legal representation could fix.

**11:18:31/11:18:32/11:18:33**

"Do you have any idea where Sark or Wang are?" asked the President.

'We might be able to pick up the thread on Wang," Jack replied. "We've back-traced the alias that he used to work at the hospital. Plus we're busy going through all the cells that we found on the dead hostiles."

"In other words, you have no firm leads," Mike said.

"Sir, we can find these people," Sydney said. "But unless we can get started, with as little hindrance from the bureaucracy above us, the odds of these terrorists using this virus on civilians goes up exponentially every minute."

Mike understood this. "Tony, who's going to be running point on this mission?"

"That's actually a matter for debate," Tony said. "Because Jack's unit doesn't officially exist in the government, Division wants to make sure that we're running the show, and that Jack and the others don't interfere until they need him."

"We don't have time to mess around," the President said firmly. "Right now, I want APO and CTU to work on this mission in tandem, and I want Jack Bauer to be in charge of field operations. Does anybody here have a problem with this?"

"No, but I'd like to be on the call when you tell this to Division," Dixon said, smiling.

"Get this done, people," the President said. "I don't need to remind you what's riding on this. Contact me when you've made some progress."

And with that the President terminated the call.

Tony wasn't sure how much of this was going to fall on his head even knowing that the President was a man of his word, but he knew that so far APO had handled everything all right, and that they needed to have firmness at the chain of command. "All right, Jack, how do you want to work this?" he asked.

Jack looked off to one side, out of the line of sight of the camera. "Kim, Mr. Bristow, I want you to go back to base to support Marshall, and to find out any more information that you get from DARPA. Tony, have you managed to bring Grady in for questioning?"

"As soon as his name came up," Tony told them. "He'll be arriving in our offices in less than five minutes."

"Vaughn, go back to CTU to assist in the interrogation. Have Mancini and Wu transported back there also. They're better equipped to handle this kind of questioning, and it's more efficient to have them all in the same place."

"Got it," Vaughn said, and started to walk to the surgical room.

"Nadia, Marcus, I want to two of you to find out what intel we managed to pull from every bit of technology that we got from the hostiles here. Start with Hsu Kar-Wai and work your way through all of the others if you have to. One of them had to have known what the next step was."

"What about me?" Sydney asked.

"Syd," Jack paused, "you understand Sark better than anyone here. I need you to help me and the others in the field trying to track down any links that the man might have in LA."

"Jack, I don't work for you," Sydney said slowly. "And I haven't dealt with Sark in nearly two years. The man could have a whole new set of contacts by now, if he's even in the country."

"I don't have a problem temporarily turning you over to APO's command," Tony told her. "And I know how you are when it comes to your enemy's files. My guess is you've probably got Sark's memorized."

Sydney didn't deny the truth of this.

"Tony, " Jack finally said. "You know that APO doesn't have the manpower to lead this kind of search. I'm going to need your help to provide people and the appropriate tech support to try and coordinate things."

"So, you have all the fun in the field, and we have to do the heavy lifting," Tony said, half in jest. "All right, I'll start setting things in motion. Call me when you've got some locations to send us to."

"All right, you have your orders," Jack said. "What Sydney told the President is true. Wang is in possession of a lethal genetic virus, and every minute we hesitate he gets further away. Let's go."

Jack turned the phone off speaker, and they started to separate into the groups that Jack had assigned.

"Jack," Sydney said, as they began to walk over to the main unit. "I know one thing about Sark that nobody bothered to mention, maybe because it's so obvious."

"Which is?"

"All the years I've known Sark, he's never been his own master. He always worked for someone more powerful-- my mother, Sloane, the Covenant. And unless he's gathered a shitload of ambition, I don't believe he's going to be self-employed now."

"Your father told me that when got away," Jack admitted. "And if that's the case, we'll cross that bridge when we get there. Sark and Wang are a big enough headache on their own. Right now, we can't afford to worry if someone else is pulling his strings—we just need to make sure the strings get cut."

**11:27:41/11:27:42/11:27:43/11:27:44**

"Mr. President," Mike said quietly as they walked down the hall "I think we should keep this story contained for as long as possible. Every time people here the word 'virus', they have a tendency to panic, even if it's just the flu."

"Given what I've just heard, in this case that alarm might be justified," the President replied. "However, I'll agree to a Chinese wall-- pardon the phrase. No one outside our inner circle will be told about Project Turquoise, at least until we have further information."

"Sir," Mike began hesitantly, "given what we've just learned, I think you might want to reconsider meeting with Milliken in half an hour. Given the nature of this weapon, and considering your past history, there's a very good possibility that you could be a target for this virus."

"I've considered that," admitted the President. "You don't think there's anything Secret Service or the people at CBC could do to improve my protection? After all, it's not like the terrorists can just walk into a store and get a fingernail or a hair from me."

"There are a lot of dyed-in-the-wool lunatics out there," Mike reminded the President. "And given the fact that the Internet can meet almost anybody's needs, there might be someone out there determined enough who can get some of your DNA. Sweat from a baseball cap you discarded, a used tissue—do you count the flatware from the White House kitchen?"

"Milliken will probably be extremely pissed if I cancel this meeting with him at the last minute," the President reminded him.

"The two of you go back twenty-six years," Mike countered. "I'm sure if you explain to him the threat, he'd be more than willing to let this go."

The President thought this through. "Maybe there's another way," he said. " If Mohammed won't go to the mountain, the mountain will come to Mohammed."

Now Mike was concerned. "You don't think the press will raise all sorts of questions if Milliken shows up here, now?" he asked. "With half the White House press corps outside?

"We've done this kind of thing before, Mike," the President said. "If and when the media finds out, it will look a lot better if he comes here than I go to him, hat in hand. Besides, given his connections with Defense, there's a good possibility he could provide us with information on either Project Turquoise or this Simon Grady."

"And you don't think there's a potential risk if Heller finds out?"

"A fair amount of Congress is backed by Milliken," the President said firmly. "Half of the delegation that came here does business with him, publicly or under the surface. Milliken knows that, which is probably why he wanted me to come to him."

Mike could see the logic behind the President's thinking. "All right, sir," he said. "I'll call Milliken on a private line, let him know that there will be a car coming to pick him up. I'll also talk with Secret Service, have them send more protection around the retreat."

"And what if the media finds out about that?"

"I'll tell them that it has to do with us upgrading our security level," Mike said, thinking quickly. "It won't hold the media off for long, but it'll probably buy us a few hours. Maybe that will be long enough for CTU to find these terrorists."

"I hope so," the President said.

Both he and Mike knew how wishful this thinking was.

**11:33:11/11:33:12/11:33:13**

"Marshall, where are we on the calls pulled from the cell phone we pulled off the terrorists?" Nadia asked.

"Where do you want to start?"

"With Hsu Kar-Wai and Jin Wu."

Marshall began tapping on his keyboard. "I'm kind of curious," he asked as he typed. "Did I come off like an idiot to the President?"

"You would never come off sounding stupid to anyone, Marshall," Nadia answered diplomatically. "Talkative, perhaps, but not idiotic."

Marshall considered this, as the results appeared in front of his face. "Here's something. Both phones have three calls to a number in Baldwin Hills. I'm running down the number now." He hesitated. "I mean, I know have this tendency ramble on and on in front of certain authority figures, and President Palmer is like the ultimate authority figure with the possible exception of the Pope, and actually the Holy Father would make me less nervous, 'cause, you know, half-Jewish , and the President could actually--"

By now, Nadia was used to Marshall's little stream of consciousness discussion, as well as a couple of ways to shut them down. "I wouldn't worry about it too much," she assured the tech, "because you'll probably get many more opportunities to make a better impression."

"Really?" Marshall asked hopefully.

"Of course, when that happens, it'll probably be because the virus has been let loose on the city, and half of LA is now in danger of having their faces start melting -- "

Marshall got the message. "All right, the number is for a facility called Hobson's Research Laboratory, about a mile out of Inglewood," he said. "Kar-Wai's called there roughly three hours ago for approximately forty seconds."

"What can you tell me about Hobson's Laboratories?"

"It's going to take me a few minutes to gather the relative intel," Marshall sounded almost ashamed at this.

"Any other recurring numbers?" Nadia wouldn't have asked this of any other tech, but she knew how Marshal was capable of juggling nearly a dozen balls at once.

"Most of them are to calls to other cells in the network," Marshall said slowly. "Now most of the networkers died when you blew open the doors at the hospital, but there a few calls to at least a half dozen cells. So, not only did all these hostiles have the same terrorist network, they had the came cell carrier, too." Marshall paused. "Believe it or not, I wasn't trying to be funny."

"I know," Nadia assured him "Have you been able to track down the names that go with the numbers?"

"Hey, I'm not like HAL 9000. I can only carry out like, seven, eight tasks at once. Give me fifteen minutes."

Nadia considered this. "Task it off to CTU for the moment," she told him. "Find out what you can about Hobson Laboratories. I've got a feeling that it's going to have some link with virus."

"All right. By the way, I tracked down the last known address Li Chen Wang had in California."

"Where was it?"

"Under the alias Benjamin Lee, Wang has been living in an apartment complex in Glendale for the past ten months," Marshall told her.

"Well, my guess is Wang probably got rid of anything that would give up his plans by now," Nadia reasoned. "Still, we probably have to run it down. What's the number?"

"161 Alexander Place," Marshall told her.

Nadia paused, seized by an itch "Marshall, has CTU worked up any casualty projections?"

"We're trying, but without knowing if Sark is going to use the virus as a weapon for a very specific kind of assassination or to exterminate an extended family or ethnic group, we have no idea what the worst case scenario could be," Marshall admitted sadly. "Neither scenario exactly fills you with the warm and fuzzies."

"Do they ever?" Nadia told her friend. "Call me back when you've got more intel."

She hung up and went off to find her fiancé.

**11:41:24/11:41:25/11:41:26/11:41:27**

By the time Vaughn had started to take his prisoners through the various checkpoints at CTU, he could tell that something unpleasant was afoot. Tony was in the middle of a heated conversation with a guy in a very expensive looking suit, while Michelle was on the phone, looking nearly as irate.

Vaughn hadn't been in CTU in a while, so he looked around, eventually coming across a familiar face.

"Chloe, what the hell is going on?" Vaughn asked, as he finished signing his final document.

"You mean, aside from the fact that we're drowning in intel, and your guy Marshall keeps sending us more?" Chloe asked rhetorically.

Vaughn had heard second-hand a lot about Chloe's attitude over the last years. He knew from Syd that the best way to make progress was to be direct. "I'm sorry, what's wrong besides the fact that dealing with Marshall is squeezing your ego?" he responded. "Where are we on Simon Grady?"

"Nowhere," Chloe said. "We hadn't finished prepping him for interrogation when two attorneys who said that they represented Grady, and that no one was to speak with him. We've been spending the last fifteen minutes trying to get somebody at Division to supersede this authority, and we find out that somebody called both Driscoll and Alberta Green, and they told us that there getting instructions from the Director to release Grady and refrain from even talking to him."

"Lawyers," Vaughn said disgustedly. "Why hasn't anybody just brought this to the Attorney General?"

Chloe gestured towards Michelle. "Right now, Michelle is on the phone with Defense, but apparently they've superseded Justice."

Vaughn gaped. "They do realize what Grady is being accused of, and how important it is that we talk to him?"

"No, because none of us graduated high school. Vaughn, I'm telling you this guy is protected from on high by the frigging Prince of Darkness."

"What does the background check on Grady show?" Vaughn asked. "Any connection to anyone who could pull that kind of leverage?"

"So now, APO deigns to work alongside us lowly mortals?" Chloe asked snappishly. Before Vaughn could respond to this, she added more or less contritely, "Everything we've got says that Grady is a midlevel bureaucrat with only a Level 3 security clearance. _I _have access to more important government intelligence than he does. Certainly no reason for him to be given access to a bio-weapons operation like this virus."

"In other words, you think this guy's a patsy for someone a lot higher up the food chain, and that someone is protecting Grady?"

"Yeah, but I can't imagine who," Chloe admitted. "The President's gone to an enormous amount of trouble to make sure he had a clean house ever since the crisis with the nuke a year and a half ago. Which means its either someone with deep roots, or it's someone who has just established themselves recently in the administration."

Vaughn considered this. An idea tickled his forebrain. He didn't know if it was within the scope of his authority, but he decided to try it anyway. "Where are you keeping Grady?" he asked.

"Holding Three," Chloe said slowly, "but like I said, they're not letting anybody in this office talk with him."

"I have no intention of talking with this man," Vaughn said. "You're going to find a way to transfer one of the prisoners that I'm carrying into the same room as Grady. This particular prisoner's going to be wired for sound, and he's going to get around all the hurdles this guy has installed."

"How are we going to get past the suits?" Chloe asked, not rejecting the idea.

"Leave that to me."

**11:47:49/11:47:50/11:47:51**

Jack had been reluctant to leave the helicopter in the possession of Vaughn and Dixon, but he had been persuaded by the fact that they were probably be spending most of the next several hours in no-fly zones. So he and Sydney had gotten into her car, and started heading out to their next destination.

"You finished the research on Hobson Laboratories?" he asked his lead tech.

"I just finished pulling up to background information," Marshall said over the speakerphone. "It was established six years ago by Landis Pharmaceuticals to handle the testing of some prescription drugs before they were given FDA approval."

"That sounds rather innocuous," Sydney said.

"Yeah, but I pulled up some bank records on Landis, and apparently Landis was some kind of shell corporation. I'm still running back-traces on the names, but one of them sticks out like a sore thumb." Marshall paused. "Well, maybe not for you, Jack, but I'm reasonably sure Sydney will recognize it. Jacques Renault."

Because Sydney didn't even blink at this, it would have been very difficult for anything to know how much this had shaken her. "The same Renault who was on the council for the Alliance?" she said slowly. "Who Sloane supposedly murdered in cold blood?"

"Apparently, this was one of his last major actions before he was killed," Marshall said grimly.

"Wait a minute," Jack said. "Unless I've radically misread the files, the Alliance was completely demolished by the CIA."

"I know, Jack, I was there," Sydney reminded. "Do any of the other names of the board of directors connect back to the Alliance?"

"No, I ran it through one of the filters I created on SD-6 for the company a few years back," Marshall told them "There are none which obviously stick out. Here's the thing: Sark was supposedly working for the Alliance when he first started working with Mr. Sloane. If he had access to the same information that he did, he'd know about this lab."

"How far out are we?" Jack asked Sydney.

"Hang on," Sydney punched the accelerator.

Wang removed the last test tube from the centrifuge, and handed it to one of his couriers, who very gently put it in a biohazard bag. "I think that it's time we got out of here," he said to two of his bodyguards. He took out his cell phone and hit the top button.

"Yes?"

"The last of the vials has been prepared," Wang said.

"How long until the first couriers reaches his target?" Sark asked.

Wang looked at his watch. "If everything has gone to schedule, less than half an hour," he said.

"How long will it take you to sanitize the lab?"

"My men can get it done in twenty minutes," Wang told his fellow conspirator.

"Then I suggest you get out of there, and headed towards your fallback point," Sark responded. "We've got a tight schedule to maintain, and a lot of targets to acquire." He terminated the phone call.

"Remember," Wang told his men. "This facility can not be destroyed until all of the files here have been deleted. This government is very good at reclaiming information even from rubble. Get to it."

He left three men behind to carry out his orders.

**11:53:04/11:53:05/11:53:06/11:53:07**

Vaughn and Chloe listened from a small room out of the sightline of all the suits, as one of the guards brought a very rattled Mancini into Holding Three.

"Hey, what's going on here?" Grady said, sounding genuinely alarmed. Another Marshall invention, a micro-transmitter, was making every word in the cell ring out loud and clear.

"This prisoner is being held here while the transport shows up," the guard said as he sat Mancini down, across the room from Grady.

Vaughn had deliberately not told Mancini to dig for any particular information, figuring the less rehearsed the doctor was, the more likely things would flow more spontaneously. So when the guard left the room, Mancini's attitude was pretty genuine.

"What the fuck did you get me into?" he demanded in a loud voice.

"Calm down, Mancini," Grady tried a reassuring tone

"Calm down! They're going to cart me off the Guantanamo Bay and throw away the goddamn key!" Mancini said. "And I didn't even do anything!"

"What can they possibly charge you with?" Grady was still trying to be calm. "Tax fraud? So you do a few years in a minimum security prison in San Diego. You can do that standing on your head!!"

"Standing on my head, he says." Mancini looked at him. "All of that's assuming the terrorists don't kill me, or worse! The medical board may take my license!"

"Mancini, you're not going to be a target."

"Really? THE BASTARDS CUT OFF MY THUMB!" This shout was almost enough to make Vaughn glad the room was soundproof. "And now the fucking CIA wants to charge me with treason, even though all I did was take your money for your 'genetic research project!'"

"They don't have enough to charge you with that," Grady tried to reassure him.

"The government never needed an excuse to go after Italians before," Mancini was started to babble now, "and now they've got all the reason in the world to stick a needle in my arm!"

"Look, I realize you've been through a lot today--"

:"Yeah," Mancini countered, "and what for? What the fuck did I do it for?"

Grady's voice changed. "You did it for the greater good," he said solemnly.

"They're telling me that it's some kind of virus," Mancini continued to throw a fit, "How is developing the next Ebola for the goddamn greater good?"

"Trust me," Grady said. "When the right people use this virus, the earth will move."

"That's enough," Vaughn told Chloe. "The lawyers won't be able to protect him anymore." He got up from his chair and began walking into Holding Three."

Tony and one of the attorneys intercepted. "What do you think you're going?" the attorney demanded

"Your client just confessed to conspiracy," he told them both. "Which means any arrangement you've made for him is currently void."

"This will never stand up in court," the weasel dared to say.

"Well, then you can try and get a restraining order, but until you've got one, he's ours." By now Vaughn had reached the door.

Tony blocked the path of the wanna-be Dershowitz, and let him enter the room. He motioned to the guard to get Mancini out, and took out his gun and trained it on Grady.

"You fucked up, Simon," Vaughn told him. "Your lawyer friends can't protect you anymore."

"What are you talking about?"

"_Give it up, Simon!_" Vaughn's voice went up an octave. "Your life is going to become very painful very fast, unless you start telling us how this virus is going to be used."

He put his gun over the prisoner's forehead. "You've got til the count of three. One… two…thr--"

"All right, all right!" Grady's calm was replaced by panic. "All I know was one of the primary targets of the virus."

"Who?" Grady hesitated. Vaughn fired a shot over his head. "Last fucking warning!"

"En Lai!" Grady shouted. "The Chinese Premier!"

**11:59:57/11:59:58/11:59:59/12:00:00**


	7. 12:00 PM TO 1:00 PM

Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**The Following Takes Place Between 12:00 P.M. and 1:00 P.M.**

"What's the layout of the place?" Sydney asked Jack, who was looking at the blueprints Marshall had sent to his PDA. "Will we need some kind of security clearance to get in?"

Jack nodded, still staring intently at the blueprints for Hobson Laboratories. He glanced at the building. Despite the name, it looked more like a warehouse than a lab. Then again, it was supposed to be for storage, originally. "There are at least three security cameras at ground level. Marshall's working on a way to get us past them, but whoever's in charge will probably give some kind of warning to Wang's people."

Jack's phone chose that moment to ring. "Bauer."

"It's Vaughn. We may have another problem."

"I'll put you on speaker." Jack pressed the button. "You get anything out of Grady?"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure I believe him," Vaughn admitted. "He says that one of the reasons the virus was created was to take out the Chinese Premier."

"The security around the Premier is one of the heaviest of any foreign leader," Jack pointed out. "Plus the President has already upgraded the protection around the retreat when he learned of the virus's existence."

"But would that matter?" Sydney asked. Jack and she exchanged a look. "The virus acts the way of a common cold—not everyone can get it, but everyone will carry it. They could spray it arund a reporter on a lunch break right before a public meeting with the Premiere, and no one would know. Once the virus would be released into the air, as long as he stays in LA, it can still get to him."

Jack nodded slowly. "But if you released it at one end of town, it wouldn't matter—he won't be here that long, and the odds of it getting to him in China from here…well, when was the last time you met someone who has frequent flyer mileage between here and China?"

Vaughn deliberately cleared his throat. "I'm not sure how important this is. Grady gave up this information rather easily. Furthermore, if the virus was taken two hours ago, I don't know how fast it could be used as a weapon by anyone currently at the Western White House."

"How hard have you pressed Grady?" Sydney asked.

"Not hard at all," Vaughn told them. "We've spent the last thirty minutes dicking around with his attorneys. We haven't had time to really interrogate him."

"Call Aaron Pierce at the retreat," Jack told him. "Tell him to have his people keep their eyes open. Beyond that, I'm not sure what else we can do until you find out exactly what Grady knows."

Sydney parked the car about two blocks away from the address. "I think we'd do better to go the rest of the way on foot," she told Jack. "Vaughn, we're just a couple blocks away from Hobson Laboratory."

"I'll let you and Jack concentrate on your work. Call back if you get any intel that backs up Grady's story."

Vaughn hung up. As Sydney and Jack got out, Sydney went to the trunk, which, like every CTU vehicle, carried a fairly impressive arsenal. In addition to their service weapons, Sydney took out a Tag 17 pistol, and Jack grabbed a Weber.38. They were getting the ammunition out as Jack dialed Marshall.

"We're here," Jack told his. "Have you worked out an approach?"

"Well, I have been talking with Kim—she just showed up, by the way, very punctual," Marshall told them. "Now, were you going to take a slam-bang method or were you planning to exercise more subtlety?"

"I think we'd better be stealthy, at least until circumstances dictate otherwise," Sydney replied.

"Then the easiest way for me to do this is to tap into their security feed while you two start walking towards the back entrance," Marshall told them. "Which we should be able to do in less than two minutes."

Aaron Pierce, head of President Palmer's Secret Service detail, walked into the president's office, closely followed by Lynn Kresge. He wasn't as tall as most Secret Service agents assigned to the President—as a basketball player in college, Palmer required agents just as tall, if not taller—but he was the most experienced Agent on the detail, and had been with Palmer since the first, serious attempt on his life, when he was still just a candidate for office.

"What's going on, Aaron?" the President asked the agent he personally trusted the most in his detachment.

"Mr. President," Pierce began in his slow, precise drawl, "we received a call from CTU a few minutes ago, saying that there was a credible threat to the safety of the Chinese Premier."

Palmer straightened. "En Lai? How credible is your intel?"

"We are still obtaining information," Pierce admitted. "However, we believe it has something to do with the genetic virus we were told about less than an hour ago."

The President rose to his feet. "I thought that the retreat was secure, and that so far we had found no evidence of the virus."

There was a pause. "That's the other reason we're here, sir," Lynn told her boss. "Mr. President, Allan Milliken drove up a couple of minutes ago."

This was already a matter of some concern. Milliken had not been happy that he had to come to see the President, instead of the other way around, but since pissing off Secret Service agents was a federal offense, he had agreed to come-- if his driver could be allowed to bring him on to the retreat. The President had considered this a minor concession, but now he thought he could see the problem. "I take it he didn't like the idea of you searching him or his vehicle," he asked rhetorically.

"He called Mike, and said he would sooner drive away then be searched like a common criminal," Lynn explained.

"Did you explain to him that there was an elevated threat, and that there were no exceptions?"

Lynn hesitated. "He said that after more than twenty-five years to treat him like that was an insult, " she told him "He also said that his father didn't have hoses turned on him in Montgomery so that his son could be treated like a felon."

Palmer's eyes narrowed. That sort of accusation was tantamount to slander. The President understood perfectly well where Milliken was coming from, and that this could turn into a PR nightmare, but given what he was learning he was not in the mood to mess around. "Tell Allan that if he wants to see the President of the United States, he will have to temporarily forfeit some of his dignity, and be treated like every other citizen who enters these premises," he told tem. "He would also do well to remember that that the same rules apply to everyone, rich, poor, black and white."

Pierce nodded and walked away. "He won't be happy with this, sir," Lynn told the President.

"Right now, his feelings are the least of my concerns," the President said grimly.

**12:08:53/12:08:54/12:08:55**

After a few minutes, Kim had managed to loop the film in the security cameras at the lab so that Jack and Sydney could get around them. Sydney picked the lock, and opened one of the receiving doors in the back.

"Any idea how many hostiles are in the building?" Jack whispered into his transmitter as they walked towards the staircase.

"Just about finished with the thermal scan," Marshall told them. "There are only two on the ground level, one at the front desk, the other seems to be walking the perimeter. Of course, if this really _is _a bio-lab, the majority of the workers will be in the lower levels, and if they really are Alliance, they'll probably have some kind of lining to the floors that'll make any more of these scans difficult."

"Where's our back-up?" Sydney asked.

"Agents Manning and Baker are at the front of the building," Kim said. "Say the word, they can be inside in less than two minutes. However, from what I've taken from their own security cameras, eleven men walked into the building at 9:58, eight men left less than twenty minutes ago."

"If the math's right, backup will be unnecessary." Sydney said. "Where are you two on the internal cameras?"

Marshall: "One more second, and…All right. The building has one major sublevel that has three times the square room of the upstairs. If the schematic's right-- and I'm only ninety percent sure it is-- there are sixteen rooms on it. Of the men who walked into the building an hour ago, they all went to that sublevel. Five of them walked into Lab 4 at the front of the hall, four more went into lab five, the rest went into the data server room I've done the math, the two were in the data server never left."

"They're probably trying to purge their files," Jack said.

"Any chance that Wang stayed around?" Sydney asked.

"No, but I'm pretty sure they know where he is," Marshall asked.

"Because you're psychic, too?"

"No, because the last place he went to was the data server."

By now, they had reached the sublevel. "What room's the data server?"

"Third door from the left, as you come up the hall," Marshall told them.

"All right, tell Manning to be ready to wait for my command," Jack said. "Prepare to start looping the security cameras."

He signed off, and motioned Sydney to go to the other side of the door. He opened it, and waiting for the red blinker on the front of the camera to flash twice, indicating the loop had begun.

Jack then motioned to Sydney to begin walking quickly down the side of the hall. The internal camera was a harder model to hack than the one outside; the loops would only last sixty seconds, which was just about the length of time it took for the two agents to reach the data server.

They assumed their positions, and then Jack kicked the door open.

"CTU! Drop your wea--" was as far as Jack got before the two hostiles began firing on them. One of them had a basic semi automatic; the other was armed with an RF Micro. She turned.

_We only need one of them,_ Sydney thought as she waited for the clip of the Micro to empty, knowing that he was the bigger threat. The second it did, Syd came out and fired three shots at the hostile on the left.

Then the one holding the semi ran over to the computer, and began punching in some keys. Sydney knew that only bad things could happen from this, and changed her priority to stopping him. She aimed for the hostile's arm, but he jumped backwards, and she accidentally hit him in the neck.

Jack, in the meantime, had managed to fire two shots from his Elite pistol into the man with the Micro-- one hit the shooter in the shoulder, and he dropped his weapon. He kicked it away. "Syd, what about the other one?"

"Forget it, he's dead." Sydney was now looking at the computer that her gunmen had been working on. "We may have another problem. They must've done something to corrupt the files on this hard drive."

"How bad?"

"Bad enough," Sydney sat down in front of the monitor. "I'm going to call Chloe. She's nearly at Marshall's level when it comes to these kinds of programs. And we need Marshall elsewhere."

"All right, I'll see what I can get out of this one." Jack grabbed the hostile to his feet and got out the transmitter. "Agent Manning, I need you to get a field kit ready. We have a prisoner we need to interrogate _now."_

**12:17:08/12:17:09/12:17:10/12:17:11**

Even though Milliken had suffered from hypertension that caused him to walk with a cane, he still carried himself with pride. Since Milliken was one of the most powerful black men in America, he had every reason to do so, but it was now clear to the President that there was definitely arrogance in it as well.

"I'm getting a little old to be treated like I still had to sit at the back of the bus, David," he said as he walked up to the President.

Milliken had known the President long enough so that he could let the lapse in etiquette slide. "We're in the middle of a crisis situation, Allan," he said, as he motioned for the millionaire to sit down. "It's one of the reasons that I wanted to see you."

"I thought that the crisis at the hospital had been handled," Milliken said, as he slowly lowered himself into a chair.

"In all your dealings with the Defense Department, have you ever done business with a man named Simon Grady?"

Milliken gave this some thought. "I believe he's a subcontractor for some of their outside projects," he finally said. "He did some work with Western Energy a couple years back on that troop carrier that was supposed to run on alternative fuel."

"That's all you know?" pressed the President.

"I only know the man by reputation, David. I've never set eyes on him. What is it that this Grady is supposed to have done?"

The President paused. "Until I have more information, I'm afraid I can't tell you," he finally told Allan.

"I've heard that exact phrase before, Mr. President," Milliken said with a surprising wistfulness, "by men in that exact position. I just never imagined you'd ever talk to me like that."

The President knew that this attitude of self-derision was not something Allan Milliken often did, and it was a sham. "Is that why you've been so insistent that I meet with you, Allan?" he asked. "So that we could reminisce about days gone by?"

Milliken's posture shifted—time to cut the BS. "We've been friends for twenty-five years, David," he began. "I think it's fair enough to say that you wouldn't be where you are without me. I also know that there are certain deals that you have to make when you reach your position, and I think that I've asked for very little in exchange for my helping you."

"But you're going to ask for something now," the President said.

"Yes," said Milliken simply. "I want you support Hanover in the primary run in the Illinois Fourteenth."

This definitely wasn't something that the President had expected. "You're telling me not to support my own brother for reelection in his own district," he stated flatly.

"And I want the full force of the White House to be behind Hanover's run."

"Leaving aside the political powers, why are you so adamant that Wayne not be reelected _now? _" The President demanded. "You've already had two elections to campaign against him."

"Because I had no problem with him being Congressman four years ago," Allan said bluntly. "I didn't have a problem until three weeks ago."

"And what changed your mind?" the President asked sternly.

"I learned that he's been having an affair with my wife," Milliken told him.

The statement had enough force to cause the President to be silent for a few moments. "Are you sure?"

"I've been suspicious for the last few months," Milliken said, sounding almost sentimental. "But I never thought that it would be with him. Not until the investigators I hired photographed them coming out of a hotel in Chicago. When a man of my age has a wife as lovely as Julia, he expects that there will be certain transgressions, but for them to come from a man who I let run one of my companies, who I considered a friend"—Allan shook his head—"that is something I cannot forgive."

Though inwardly he was still reeling a little, President Palmer had recovered enough to remember his politics. "Even if I were to do what you're suggesting-- " he began "something which I would find repugnant no matter who the idea came from-- I have no effect on who the people of Wayne's district vote for."

"If you honestly believe that, Mr. President, you are incredibly naïve," Milliken told him, "which is one of the few things you're not. You are the Democratic President, the leader of the Democratic party, and Chicago is the major voting block of Illinois—a thoroughly Democratic town run by a Democratic family dynasty. Illinois will vote for whoever the President backs, and if you go against Wayne, the voters will go with you. Now I have more than enough proof to ruin your brother's career, and I'm coming to you to try and spare his reputation. Because the media certainly won't when they find out about this."

David Palmer knew there was a grain of truth to this, but he also knew where his loyalty had to lie. "I will not sacrifice my brother of because of your feelings, even if it does hurt me politically, Allen," he said, "and you have to have come here knowing that."

"What I know, Mr. President, is that you've been given a lot to consider," Milliken said. "So here's something else to consider. I have a meeting scheduled later this afternoon with Congressman Heller. I could take this opportunity to tell the press that I am going to back _him_ in New Hampshire instead of you."

Palmer's eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward. Most people were smart enough to recognize the posture as resembling a bear ready to attack. Milliken didn't blink. "After you just finished telling me that you can destroy Wayne's career by yourself, single handedly, by simply releasing a few photos, you threaten my entire administration because I won't be your errand boy. That's not about a favor for an old friend, Allan, this is about control. And you don't _own _me."

If Milliken have even noticed Palmer spoke, he didn't show any signs of it. "There will be repercussions, David. And you know better than anyone that it's not good to get on my bad side."

**12:26:41/12:26:42/12:26:43**

Wayne had hoped he would have been able to talk to his brother now that the crisis was over. Then he had gathered from the conversation of some of the press the rumor that Allan was now on the retreat, probably meeting with David now. He had been waiting all morning for the other shoe to drop, and now that it had, he was not sure how to proceed.

He could throw himself on his sword, and offer to tender his resignation right now, before the story went any further. That would probably satisfy Allan's bloodlust, but he'd be finished in politics and probably in business as well. He could utter a mea culpa to the media, and see if they would be as forgiving of his indiscretions as they had been of his brother's. In either case, he would probably lose forever the respect and compassion of his brother, and Wayne had seen what the loss of his brother's love had done to Sherry. He didn't believe that it would make him turn against his country the way she had, but the thought of being shut out by David was not something he wanted under any circumstances.

While he was considering this, his cell rang. He had a vague idea who it would be before he answered. "Palmer," he said as he answered.

"It's me."

Wayne made sure there was nobody in the hallways before lowering his voice. "Julia, this is a pretty terrible time for you to be calling."

"I know that, Wayne," Julia sounded nearly as distressed as he was. "But I didn't think it was safe to talk to you until Allan was out of the house."

"Well, he's here now," Wayne said tiredly, "probably spilling the details of our sordid affair to my brother. And once he does, one way or another, I'm finished."

"That's why I need to talk to you," Julia paused. "In person."

Wayne was starting to feel exasperated. "Do you know how hard it will be to get out of here without somebody from the press finding out?" he asked.

"We managed to carry on an affair for more than a year without the press catching wind of it," she pointed out.

"That's not exactly the kind of thing we should be proud of."

"You're picking an awfully bad time to rediscover your morality," Julia argued.

"This is a waste of time." Wayne was about to terminate the call, when her tone changed.

"I'm sorry; that was callous of me," Julia said. "Wayne, both of our lives are going to be upended if Allan goes public. Now I think that I can find a way that we can get out from under the thumb of my husband, but I need to be face-to-face with you in order to do it."

Wayne knew that looking for an out was probably the coward's approach, not to mention one his brother wouldn't approve of, but if there was a way he could help himself without soiling David's reputation, he was willing to try it. At least, that's how he justified it to himself.

"Where do you want to meet?" he asked.

"There's a bar in Santa Barbara off Norton Street. The Bronze Eagle."

"All right," he told her. "I'll get there as quickly as I can."

He hung up, and started looking for Agent Pierce, the only Secret Service agent on detail who had a long standing relationship with the Palmer family. Aaron would understand Wayne's needs, and would probably be more willing to accommodate them, probably without mentioning it to David.

Maybe something would go his way today.

**12:32:18/12:32:19/12:32:20/12:32:21**

"They were trying to purge the hard drive before you and Agent Bauer showed up," Chloe told Sydney. "They ran out of time, so they used a worm to corrupt the remaining data."

"How much of it is salvageable?" Sydney asked over the phone.

"The worm's not going to be that much of a problem," Chloe assured her. "It was one amateur version rather than the ones the best techies come up with. I've already managed a sixty-four percent recovery of that data. Whether or not this data is going to be useful is another question."

"You think the information was encrypted?"

"Possibly," Chloe said slowly, "though why you'd want to encrypt something that's already encoded is a mystery I don't think I can solve."

"We just want you to provide us with answers. We don't need them to be explained."

Chloe paused. "You might want to rethink that last sentence."

"Were you able to get any useful data?" Sydney asked.

"I think so," Chloe told her. "I've been running a decryption program based on some old Chinese code that we got from some messages we intercepted from Scarlet Circle over the past few months. There are a series of code words referring to agents already in the country, some who arrived today, some who have been in the country for awhile."

"And have you been able to make any sense out of them?"

"Yes, an Agent with the code name Black Water is scheduled to make some kind of delivery at 1:30 today."

"Where exactly is he supposed to make this delivery?" Sydney asked.

"According to this, Van Nuys Airfield, Gate 2." Chloe paused. "Before the security lockdown, that's the gate where the Chinese Premier was scheduled to leave on. But given the shift in security, the Premier's being held at the retreat for a few more hours."

"They might not have known that then," Sydney said. "Who is Black Water?"

"That's just it. All we have on him is a code name. No name, no description."

"Son of a bitch." Sydney considered this. "Well, we've got a prisoner upstairs. I think I'd better find out exactly where we are."

"There's something else," Chloe said. "The data on the hard drive that was purged may be recoverable."

"Really?"

"Your boy Marshall seems to have a data recovery program that can recreate the memory of the files." Chloe praised her rival reluctantly; Sydney knew from past experience that she was something of an egotist when it came to her tech skills. "He's says that there are at least three really large files with a lot of encryption on them."

"Does he have any idea what might be on them?"

"Why don't you call him and ask?" Now Chloe sounded openly contemptuous.

"Chloe."

"He says it's going to take at least a couple of hours before we know what data is on them."

"Call me when you have more results," Sydney paused. "On either front."

She hung up and started walking upstairs.

**12:38:02/12:38:03/12:38:04**

Once again, Jack had needed to come up with a makeshift setup to interrogate the prisoner, inside one of the CTU vehicles. After printing him and sending his photograph to APO, Kim had identified him as Takeshi Lin, a low-level mercenary who had been suspected as one of the men behind the Nanking bombings. In one sense, they had lucked out to have someone this valuable in their custody. In another, it presented a rather difficult problem, as he was not going to be someone who was easy to break. Jack had been working on him pretty hard for the last fifteen minutes, and hadn't gotten anything of substance out of him.

"You may think that you can take a lot of pain," Jack told Lin in a deadly whisper, "but you haven't even begun to suffer. Now, one more time, what was the primary objective of going to this lab?"

Lin remained stone-faced. Jack belted him across the eyes. "Tell me or I start gouging," he ordered Lin, as he reached for his knife.

"Jack!" Sydney shouted out, as she ran over the rest of the way. "I'm guessing you've reached the point in the interrogation where you start cutting things off."

Jack walked over to meet Syd and lowered his voice. "I'm prepared to do that, but I don't think it'll work," he reluctantly admitted. "I checked his file. Lin spent the better part of a year and a half in a Hong Kong detention facility until he managed to escape during the regime change in 1997. They say he never said a word."

"I take it he also rejected our offer for immunity?" Sydney said.

"It was the first thing I said to him," Jack told him. "Son-of-a-bitch spat in my face. We may have to find another way to get his intel, or find another pressure point, something mental. Did you get anything off the computer?"

"Chloe has been recovering the corrupted data off one of the hard drives," Sydney told him. "According to that, an agent named Black Water is scheduled to make some kind of delivery of the virus in a little more than forty-five minutes at the location where the Chinese Premier was going to be. Problem is, we don't have any ID on this guy, or know how he's making the drop."

"And you think that Lin knows that?"

Sydney looked at him. "Given what you told me, this guy has to be high placed in Wang's organization. At the very least he probably knows who Black Water is."

"Maybe," Jack said "but how do we get it out of him?"

Something occurred to Sydney. "Curtis," she yelled over to the other agent, "go to the front of my car, and check the glove compartment for a hypodermic for the hyoscine-pentothal combination."

Curtis let an eyebrow. "That still hasn't been authorized for this kind of interrogation."

"I don't think we have a choice."

The combination of drugs that Sydney was suggested had been given an okay for provisional testing by the agency less than a month ago. Part truth serum with a small measure of a highly toxic drug from the nightshade family, the drug simultaneously depressed the cortical functions in a person, while causing a deadly acid to flow through the body. In animal testing, however, more than sixty percent of the subjects had died after an injection of more than six cc's. Human testing had only begun a week earlier.

"Syd, I knew about that drug, " Jack said as Curtis brought them the hypodermic and solution, "and you know I believe in pulling out all the stops for these sessions, but I've seen the numbers for this. There's a good possibility only one dose of this could kill him, and we might still come up with nothing."

"We don't have enough to take him to a white room," Sydney reminded him. "Extreme measures are the only ones that we can take right now."

Jack considered this. "Get out the epinephrine," he told. "And check the lab for a portable defibrillator." Off Sydney's look, he replied "There's a very good chance that this will kill him. I want to make sure he doesn't die until we can make it happen."

"Three minutes, Jack," Sydney warned him. "We can't afford to fuck around anymore."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Should I even ask why you just happen to carry this around in your glove compartment?"

**12:45:19/12:45:20/12:45:21/12:45:21**

Chloe walked over to Tony and Vaughn. "I may have gotten something else out of the data stream," she told them

"Anything else on this agent Black Water?' Tony asked.

"No, " she admitted, "but I think I found out something that might lead us to Wang."

"What have you got?" Vaughn asked.

"The other man who was purging the files-- the one Sydney had to kill-- his name was Harold Yi, I had one of the tech pull the last five numbers he made on his cell. This last call was made forty minutes ago."

She went to her keyboard and typed in some numbers.

'I'm at the meeting point,' a speaker said in Cantonese. 'Are the others coming?'

'They just left,' Yi told the other speaker.

'This is a bad plan.'

'We've already discussed this.'

'How do we know that he's loyal? We only recruited him for this mission. He could still be working for them.'

'Even if he is lying, he doesn't know enough to hurt us.'

'And if he does betray us?'

'Then Black Water will make sure that it is the last thing he does. And we will help make sure that this country is painted in blood.'

The phone call ended. "Sounds to me like they're talking about the Premier," Vaughn said.

"All this does is tell us something we already know," Tony told her. "Unless…" He looked it Vaughn. "What if he's talking about someone on the inside whose loyalty he can get? Someone with access to the premier."

"Couldn't be the Secret Service," Vaughn thought out loud. "Given how extensively they're trained, there are a dozen different barriers he'd have to pass through just so he could be allowed to come to a conference like this."

"That's true about _our _security details," Tony said. "But how sure are we about the Premier's?"

"The consequences for that kind of betrayal are probably far more extensive than ours," Vaughn pointed out. "Still, given the fact that there is a certain element of the KGB behind Chinese lines before the Soviets fell, maybe somebody could slip through."

Tony turned to Chloe. "Get this information to Jack," he ordered. "And try and run a background check of everybody in the security detail."

"That'll be difficult. Their files just arrived in America today," Chloe told them.

"I don't care what kind of hoops you have to jump through," Tony said. "Just get the information to us _now."_

**12:50:29/12:50:30/12:50:31**

Sydney walked over to Jack. "The kit's ready," she told Jack. "You sure don't want any help?"

"I'm better with this kind of thing than you are," he responded. "Besides, it'll give you deniability if something goes wrong."

"I suggested the goddamn thing," Sydney reminded him as he took out the hypodermic. "The thing came from a CTU vehicle."

"You know how Division sometimes wants every detail spelled out?" Sydney nodded. "They can sometimes be persuaded to look away if things go bad, and their ass is covered. Chase has been a good friend to us, but there's only so much she can do. So we have to help her out."

"Are you just talking about this so you don't have think about what you're doing?"

Jack looked up. "Be ready if he gives us anything."

He walked back to Lin who had tubes sticking out of him, along with one of the heart monitors. Next to it was a small table had been taken from the lab. On it was everything Jack had asked for, including the defibrillator.

"Is this supposed to scare me?" Lin asked haughtily.

"The precautions are for our benefit, not yours," Jack said. "Not that you're entitled to one, but this is your last chance. Tell us, or there's a very good chance our relationship will end before it even has a chance to begin."

A flash of unease seemed to cross Lin's face before his natural stoicism returned.

"We'll start with one cc," he told Agent Manning, who began to send the liquid into the tubes.

It took less than ten seconds for the first results. Lin's face began to wrinkle as a wave of agony shook through him. He tried to keep his jaws clamped shut, but a moan of pain squealed out of him. His breathing accelerated.

"We're very interested in monitoring your reactions," Jack told him in a detached tone. "This drug is still in the immediate testing phase, and most of the subjects end up dead after five cc's. That's why we've got you hooked up to the monitor. Scientific method needs to be followed."

Sweat was pouring off Lin's body. "Where is Li Chen Wang?" Jack now all but whispered.

"I… don't… know." Lin managed to gasp out.

"Two cc's." Jack ordered. Manning, with an apparent hint of reluctance, introduced more of the substance.

Now Lin began to start physically shaking. He tried to curl up his hands, but they were handcuffed to his seat. He didn't just give an agonizing moan, he all but shouted. The monitor spiked radically, and Lin almost yanked himself away from the screen.

"What information was on the computers you were purging?!" Jack demanded.

It was hard to tell if the pain was too great or whether he was trying to maintain his composure, but now he all but shouted out: "I can't tell you!!"

"Three cc's!!" Jack ordered.

"Jack, that'll kill him!"

Jack couldn't tell if Agent Manning was faking or not, but it seemed to be enough to get to Lin. "All right!!" he shouted frantically. "I'll talk!"

"What was your objective at this lab?" Jack started with the most pertinent question.

"We were genetically modifying the virus for specific targets within the city," Lin said agitatedly. "Major race-specific neighborhoods that could hit a certain kind of people! We modified the rest to increase the casualty output when the virus was delivered!"

By now, Sydney had walked up to them. "How many vials of the virus do you have?" she demanded.

"Fourteen," Lin told them. "Half of them we augmented for specific people, the others were modified for maximum casualties!"

"What were the targets?" Jack shouted.

"I don't know." When Jack motioned towards the tubes again, Lin spat out: "Only Wang knew all of the targets! He only told the people in control of the vials what their target was; he didn't want the information freely distributed in case something like this happened."

"Where is Wang right now?" Jack demanded.

"He didn't tell us. Our job was to purge the files and then destroy the facility."

"Why?"

"This facility was used for a project by our American backer. Something he worked on a few years ago," Lin explained. "Wang never gave us the full details!"

"How are they going to get the Chinese Premier?" Sydney demanded. "Who is Black Water?"

"He's a mole within En Lai's private security detail," Lin said resignedly. "If the treaty was signed, he was to use the virus to kill the Premier!"

"His name?"

"Sheng Leung."

Jack turned to Sydney. "Contact Tony. Tell him to look for a security officer named Sheng Leung."

"They're half a step ahead of us," Sydney told Jack "Tony and Vaughn figured out that it had to be someone on the Premier security detail. Chloe just turned up Leung's name."

"Have they contacted Secret Service yet?"

"Doing it now."

Agent Pierce spoke into his radio. "Notify all agents that we have a hostile in the facility: Agent Sheng Leung, approximately five-foot-ten, dark hair, grey eyes. Subject is carrying a deadly virus, and should be considered armed and extremely dangerous! I also need a twenty on Premier En Lai, and we need to secure Eagle and President Suvarov, right now!"

The Chinese security detail did not have their radios on the same frequency that American Secret Service did. However, Leung's radio was not the traditional brand. His American contact had made sure of it. He caught the entire transmission, and managed to walk into the room with the Premier, just before the all points came out.

"What's all the fuss about?" the other agent watching the Premier said.

"Nothing to worry about," Leung assured both the men in the room. "Everything is completely under control."

As he turned around, he reached into his pocket and removed a small test tube with a disintegrating cap on it. He placed it on the floor, shut the door, and started to walk away.

By the time the Secret Service spotted him., it would be too late for anyone in that room.

**12:59:57/12:59:58/12:59:59/1:00:00**


	8. 1:00 PM TO 2:00 PM

Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**The Following Takes Place Between 1:00 P.M. and 2:00 P.M.**

"What the hell is going on?" demanded the President as Mike Novick entered the room he was being held in by the Secret Service.

"Sir, we believe that someone on the site has possession of the virus and is attempting to infect the Chinese premier," Mike said simply.

"The three most protected men on the planet are on this retreat. How did someone get past our security?""

"The assassin is a member of their security. His name is Sheng Leung, and he's part of Premier En Lai's personal detail."

"So you're telling me that this man could have walked up to the premier and no one would have stopped him?" asked the President angrily.

Before Mike could answer one of the phones in the room rang. Mike picked it up. "Yes?" He hesitated, then put the phone on speaker. "You're now on line with the President."

"Sir, this is Agent Pierce."

"Have you found this Sheng Leung, Aaron?" the President asked.

"No, Mr. President, and I'm afraid the situation is worse than we thought. Based on the security footage around the area where the Premier was being guarded, it appears that Leung was in the same room with the Premier for just under a minute, more than enough time to deliver the virus."

The President was so shocked by this that he sat down in one of the chairs with a dazed expression on his face.

"Aaron, get every agent out of there, and make sure the Premier and his guard are isolated," Mike said.

"Why?' asked the President hollowly. "If the information we heard about the virus was accurate, the only man who's in danger is Premier En Lai, and if he has been infected, it's already too late for him."

"Nevertheless, sir, I believe it is critical that you, President Suvarov, and the other VIP's get out of this building right now," Aaron told them.

"Have you forgotten the huge media cadre that's perched outside?" Mike said. "If the media learns that there's some kind of genetic virus and that a major world leader has been exposed to it, there could be mass panic here and abroad!"

Palmer winced, and snapped out of his initial shock. His eyes hardened. "We can't worry about the PR fallout now, Mike. If En Lai has been exposed to the virus, we have to notify the Chinese government now. No matter how we try to pretty this up, a foreign leader has been the victim of a terrorist attack on American soil. Unless we find the men responsible, there is a very good chance that we could be in a state of war before this day is out."

"How do you want to handle this?" Mike asked.

"We're already in contact with CDC. Find out how long the incubation period for this virus is, and how high the possibility of contagion is." The President held up his hand. "I know what we were told earlier, but all we got was a bare bones summary. We're going to need to have facts and figures so we can figure out how to prepare the public. In the meantime, tell them to get as many workers as they can over to the retreat. Have them seal the place down until everybody on the property has been cleared. "

"Yes sir," Agent Pierce said.

"How do you want to control the flow of information?' Mike asked.

"Start by notifying Suvarov and the other Congressional representatives," the President said. "I also want my Cabinet to be convened and the Vice President contacted." He paused. "As for the media, I want you to notify them that I will be giving a special press conference in an hour, explaining the situation to all of them."

"They're going to want more than that, Mr. President."

"The people who are in this retreat are going to get the story of their lives very soon," the President said grimly. "Tell them that I am asking for the good of the country for the patience until we have a better handle on the situation."

"All due respect, sir, you used that approach when you postponed the treaty signing," Mike reminded him. "They're already suspicious enough, and if they haven't figured out what's happening, they'll get there even if we don't tell them."

"Mike, the next thing I have to do is contact the Chinese ambassador at the UN, and try to explain how an assassin managed to attack their Premier." President Palmer shook his head. "Not to be callous, but I've got a hundred other things to worry about. Handling the media's going to have to be a lower priority, at least for now."

"I'll have Lynn start making the phone calls," Mike acquiesced.

"Above all, we have to hold off notifying the world that En Lai is probably going to die," the President said. "When the terrorists learn they've succeeded, they'll be enabled beyond their wildest dreams. I hate to think what they'll try to do next."

**1:08:14/1:08:15/1:08:16**

"Goddamn it!" Sydney swore. "How could they let Leung remain at large? And to let him infect the Premier—!"

Tony could feel for her tirade, but now wasn't the time. "CDC wants to know everything they can about the virus. I put them in touch with Marshall, but even he wasn't that definite about the incubation period."

"It varies depending on the person's genetic makeup and how the virus is programmed," Sydney told him. "But if we assume that this is an assassination tool, even the most conservative timetables say that he'll start showing symptoms in a little more than an hour."

"And you're telling us that there are thirteen more vials out there, and you don't have any idea where to start looking for them?"

Sydney thought. "I think we've got two, maybe three leads that we can follow to try and pin down the rest of Scarlet Circle," she said. "Chloe told me about the conversation you got off Harold Yi's phone call."

"We still haven't been able to identify the other speaker," Tony told her.

"We may not have to. In that conversation Yi said that they had two people on the Western White House. One was Leung, and someone else that they recruited solely for this mission."

"And whoever that person is," Tony surmised, "he has to still be on the retreat, because they locked the place down an hour ago. But Syd, the people there had to clear a dozen different background checks, including a couple of CTU's, just to get there in the first place."

"You know better than anyone that there can be holes in even the most thorough security searches," Sydney reminded him.

"I'll get Chloe on it. What else?"

By now, Jack had gotten off his own phone call with Marshall, and had walked back over to them. Syd spotted him and said, "I think Jack can explain it best."

"Marshall just finished going over the cells of the two Scarlet Circle members we caught up to here," Jack told them. "Harold Yi had the same kind of phone network that we pulled off the phones Scarlet Circle was using at Wilshire Memorial."

"I don't suppose they would happen to have some call listing for either Sark or Wang," Sydney said.

"No, but there is some good news," Jack told them. "Marshall managed to isolate the numbers of all the cells that were in the network. Most of them link to the phones we're now in possession of, but three of them have links to a number that's in the same network, but doesn't match with any of the outside lines."

"Have you nailed down who owns the phone?" Tony asked.

"Not yet, but we may not have to." Jack said. "Marshall's said that he can use satellite tracking to pin down the location of the cell if we can make a connection for sixty seconds."

"And who exactly is going to reach out and touch this member of Scarlet Circle?"

"The man we have in custody," Jack said. "Lin's high enough on the food chain that if he makes a call, whoever this guy is won't be in a position to ignore it."

"Have you tried just asking Takeshi Lin who this unknown number belongs to?" Sydney asked.

"He's back to that line that Wang kept everybody in the conspiracy on such a short leash that the left hand often didn't know what the right was doing," Jack said disbelievingly. "A little more work, and I'd probably be able to get straight answers from him, but I don't think we have time to fuck around."

"How long will it take for you to have the line ready?" Tony asked.

"Marshall says he can have it prepped in ten minutes."

"Then get moving." Jack started to leave, when Tony asked. "Sydney, you said that there might be three ways to get to Scarlet Circle."

"Third is more of a long-shot," Sydney admitted. "Dixon and Nadia finished going through Wang's address in Glendale."

"They find anything worth the effort?"

"Somebody cleaned the place out before they got there," Syd said. "Place was pretty much empty, computer had been purged, but Nadia found one disk hidden behind the monitor. Data stream was encrypted; Kim's trying to clean it up."

"I guess I'll call her, see if she's made any progress," Tony said. "Get back to me if you get anything from the phone call."

"Right." Sydney hung up, and walked over to Jack.

"We're getting spread too thin," he told her. "I'm pulling Nadia and Dixon out to help us when we get a location of this phone call."

"Then we'd better get lucky," Sydney said. "These guys have already succeeded in at least one phase of their plan. We need to stop them before they get any further on it."

**1:16:31/1:16:32/1:16:33/1:16:34**

If Wayne Palmer had known the full scope of what was happening back at the retreat, he probably would have turned around, even though there was very little that he could do. But he had a feeling that the meeting with Julia Milliken was more vital to his political future, and right now, he wanted to save that without his brother's help.

The Bronze Eagle wasn't a very distinguished restaurant, but he appeared to arrive just after the lunch rush had ended. Wayne was pretty sure that he hadn't been followed; now he would just have to hope that people in California wouldn't recognize the face of a Congressman from Illinois. How likely that would be as the President's brother was up for grabs—then again, no one could recognize the last President's brother. What was his name? Ryan? Roger? Something like that.

Julia was seated in a booth in the corner. Usually very upfront about her emotions, she was maintaining a pretty good poker face as Wayne walked to the back of the restaurant.

"Thank you for coming," she said as he sat down.

"It was against my better judgment," he told her bluntly. "There's some kind of crisis happening at the retreat. If I hadn't known the right people at Secret Service, I probably wouldn't be here."

"I realize the timing is horrible," Julia said, as she sipped from a glass of water, "but I needed to see you, before Allan came back."

"What was so important that you couldn't tell me over the phone?"

"I couldn't tell you over the phone because I believe that somebody has been tapping my cell," she said just as simply.

"Now who's being paranoid?" Wayne asked.

"I assume that it's being done by one of the private investigators Allan has on his payroll."

Despite everything that was going on, Wayne was somewhat surprised. "In that case, he hasn't been as oblivious to what has been going on as we thought he was," he told her. "How do you know you weren't followed yourself?"

"When I found out, I offered to double the lead investigator's salary," Julia told him. "I've learned something from my marriage to Allan."

"If you called me to warn me about your husband's intentions--"

"That's not why I called you." Julia's voice, already low, dropped another octave. "It has to do with Allan's work at Defense."

Wayne silently acknowledged her to continue.

"Allan's always been very secretive about the contracts his company has with our military," Julia told him. "After five years of marriage, I was used to never being told about what was going on. But as he's gotten older, and I started to be more background in our house, I began to notice some strange things. More and more calls late at night. He kept upgrading security on the office computers as well as the ones at home. He always been careful about his business practices, but now he's gotten positively paranoid."

"You have any idea what this could be about?" Wayne asked.

"I ignored my suspicions until two weeks ago, when he went to Boston on business." Julia hesitated. "By that time, I suspected Allan knew of our affair, and I wanted to see if I could find anything about his work that might give me leverage with his attorneys. So I went into one of his file cabinets, and tried to see if I could find any of his dirty laundry."

"And you found some."

"But not the kind I was looking for. " Julia paused. "In the topmost cabinet, I found a bunch of government contracts. Most of the stuff in the files was over my head, but I recognized the names of one of the contractors. Guy named Simon Grady. Allan's had him over at the house a couple of times over the last months."

"Name doesn't ring any bells with me," Wayne told her. "Do you have any idea as to what Grady was working on with your husband?"

"Papers were too complicated for me to interpret," Julia admitted. "But I do know that the project was being operated out of some offices here in Los Angeles. Scabbard Industries in particular."

Because Wayne had spent some of his career working for Milliken, he knew what this company sometimes subcontracted. "You're saying that your husband was working for on some kind of biotechnology?" he asked.

"Again, I don't know all the details," Julia told him, "but I'm not as naïve as Allan thinks I am. I think his company has been working on some kind of biological weapon for Defense, and that he did it without your brother knowing."

The depths of this so dwarfed Wayne's understanding of a man who, even though he'd had an affair with his wife, he had always respected, that he could took a sip from the water glass in front of him. "I need to tell my brother about this," he said, as he put the water down.

"You'll probably have to, eventually, but right now, you need more than my say so," Julia told him. "I'm on my way to talk with one of my lawyers. I want to make sure my position will be strong enough that it will be enough to counteract his pre-nup."

"Allan might be guilty of treason, and you're concerned about the divorce?"

"I know my husband," she told him. "I have to keep my options open."

**1:24:53/1:24:54/1:24:55**

"You sure you know enough of all of the major dialects?" Jack asked Sydney.

"If you have any doubts, it would make more sense to do the call in English."

"According to Marshall, all the recordings he pulled off Lin's cell were in some form of Chinese," Jack told her. "I imagine every member of Wang's team knows some English, but considering the stakes, I don't want to tip him off."

Sydney nodded. "Yeah, I know all of the major ones and a couple of more obscure ones. What we don't know is if Lin knows any code phrase that could alert them before we complete the trace."

Jack looked back over at Lin. "I'm pretty sure that he's broken," he told her in a whisper. "Besides, he understands that if he screws around with us in any way, we will kill him."

"Somehow, I don't think dying frightens him anymore," Sydney told him.

He smiled. "So I'll make it so that he's more scared of being alive."

"Have we decided what Lin is going to be asking of this unknown conspirator?"

"We've worked out a dialogue. It's plausible enough that it'll keep him on the line for long enough for Marshall to work his magic."

"Then I think it's time for us to stop screwing around, and get to it," Sydney said. "She walked over to the prisoner. "Is the phone ready?" she asked Curtis.

Curtis had rigged to phone to one of Marshall's radios so that they would be able to listen to it from the van, and Syd could do the simultaneous translation without any risk of them being overheard. "We're all set," he told her.

He and Sydney climbed into the CTU vehicle and gave the signal to Jack and Agent Baker to proceed. Jack punched in the number, and handed the phone to Lin. It rang twice before someone picked it up.

"Yes?" came from the other end.

"It's Lin."

"Why are you calling me?" Other than the voice was male and using a Cantonese dialect, Sydney could tell nothing from the speaker.

"There was a complication while I was completed my assignment." Lin said neutrally.

"What sort of complication?"

"Somebody tipped off the government. They got to the lab half an hour a before we had finished purging the files."

Sydney didn't show it, but she thought this was a dangerous game to be playing with a potential terrorist leader, even if they didn't have a whole lot of options.

"How did you mange to escape?"

"I had to destroy the facility before the files were completely purged, and while I was making my escape, Yi was murdered."

"How much time?" Sydney whispered.

"Twenty-five seconds."

"I've been backtracking for the last forty minutes," Lin said. "There's no sign of the government. I want someone to bring me in."

There was a pause. "You'd better not be asking to meet with Wang. He's already pissed by your delay."

"This has already been a shitty day," Lin told him. "I've done my job. I want to get what I'm owed and get to safe ground."

Another pause. "Expedition Park. Corner of Slauson and Vermont. Twenty minutes."

With that the call was terminated.

"You get the trace?" Sydney asked Curtis.

"Not complete, but we were able to narrow it down to a ten-block radius within the Watts district." Curtis told her.

"That's something, anyway." Sydney got out of the van, and walked over to Jack. "Did we get an ID on the caller?"

"Marshall's running the voice through every database we have." Jack told him. "Where did he call from?"

"Somewhere in Watts, but I think they were using some kind of scramblers. We weren't able to pin him down." Sydney looked at him. "So is that where were headed?"

Jack shook his head. "Nadia and Dixon can handle that. They're closer anyway."

"Jack, you can't seriously be considering having Lin try and make the meeting point?"

"Lin just said he was going to," Jack argued, "Besides we've got a better chance of finding Wang if we check both locations."

"Not to split hairs, but have you seen our prisoner?" Sydney gestured towards Lin. "These people aren't idiots, Jack. They probably already suspect something's up; the second they get within ten feet of the guy, they'll know he's been compromised."

"Depending on how this goes, ten feet might be all we need."

**1:31:27/1:31:28/1:31:29/1:31:30**

Even though Wayne's head was still reeling from what he had learned from Julia, he realized that hasty promises aside, he couldn't sit on this, especially if Allen was still at the retreat. The moment he was back in his car, he got out his phone, and speed dialed the President's chief of staff.

"This is Novick,"

"It's Wayne."

"What the hell happened to you?" Mike was pretty good at keeping an even keel even during high stress situations; right now, he sounded pretty pissed. "How the hell did you manage to get off the grounds?"

"Secret Service knows me, and some of them are always willing to help," Wayne told him. "I'm sorry I got through the lockdown."

"Actually, Wayne, you might be safer then anybody still on the retreat."

Now Wayne knew that something was very wrong. "What the hell is going on, Mike?" he demanded

"The terrorists who were responsible for the hostage situation managed to infect Premier En Lai with a fatal genetic virus."

_Now _Wayne started to feel the first tremors of fear. "Mike, I need you to listen to me very carefully. Is Allan Milliken still on the retreat?"

Mike seemed a little confused. "Yeah, we've been holding him here until the threat level is diminished. What's he got to do with this?"

"When Allan made his first excuse to come to the retreat, he no doubt told my brother that it was because Julia and I have been having an affair." Wayne started talking fast. "Mike, I realize how much trouble I'm in, but you're going to have to set that aside, because I think that was just a façade."

"What are you talking about, Wayne?"

"I just had a meeting with Julia. She told me that she suspected Allan of using one of his companies to develop a biological weapon in connection with the Defense department." Wayne let that sink in.

Mike had always been a quick study. "Did she have any evidence to back up her accusation?"

"She said that she had heard telephone conversations with a man named Simon Grady. Does that name ring any bells?"

"CTU has Simon Grady in custody," Mike said simply. "He's how we learned about the virus in the first place."

Suddenly the horror of just what was unfolding hit Wayne. He managed to hide it. "Mike, I know that there must be ten kinds of chaos unfolding there," he said, "but you have to arrest Allan and get his vehicle searched."

"He can't go anywhere because of the lockdown," Mike told them, "and we already searched his vehicle. They didn't find anything."

"Maybe they just didn't know what to look for." Wayne said. "How else do you think they got the virus there in the first place?"

"Wayne, where are you right now?"

"I'm in Santa Barbara. Why?"

"You still have the numbers to get in touch with CTU?"

"Yeah."

"They're handling the search for the virus. Call them, and tell them exactly what you told me. Then get to their offices as quickly as you can."

"What about the retreat?"

"My guess, it would be a huge weight off David's mind, if he knew that you were somewhere safe for the duration of this threat." Mike said honestly.

"You're asking me to abandon my family."

"Wayne, I've been briefed about this virus. According to all the information that we have, whatever version of it is on the retreat is not likely to effect David's health." Mike paused. "The thing is, there's a lot more of it out there, and the longer you are out on the street, the threat your own safety grows exponentially."

Wayne had always been the more rational brother in the family. "I'll call them the minute I hang up," he told Mike.

"Wayne, there will probably be some kind of retribution for what you and Julia did," Mike told him. "But right now, I think it's a blessing that you tried to handle your problem yourself."

"Funny," Wayne said. "It sure doesn't feel that way."

**1:38:44/1:38:45/1:38:46**

Sydney blinked when her cell phone started playing the theme to Mission:Impossible. The ringtone for Kim Bauer. She could never really figure out if that occurred to her because Kim babysat for her daughter, or if it was because they were essentially turning her into another Marshall at APO.

Jack looked over at her from behind the wheel and raised a brow. "Should I ask?"

"No, not really." Syd shook her head and flipped open the phone. "Kim, what is it?"

"The man Lin spoke with was Thomas Ying," Kim started. "One of the most vocal dissidents in the Chinese government after Tiananmen Square, he fled to the states in 1995. He has since established himself as a financier to several rogue operations against the current government. Before now, Ying's been strictly a moneyman for other terrorist groups, which is why we hadn't heard of him before now. Without the phone call, there'd be no direct link between him or anything else connected with Wang."

"Well, obviously he knows something about what's happening, or he would have terminated the call the second that he knew who it was," Sydney reasoned.

"Or there's the possibility that you and my father are walking into a trap." Kim had grown up a lot over the past two years, but there was still a bit of nerves in her voice at this.

"You know how this kind of operation works," Syd reminded her. "The only person that Ying and his people will see shall be Lin. The subcutaneous tracers that we have placed on him should be enough to lead us to someone higher up the food chain. The risk to us is minimal, and the potential for reward is a lot greater."

"How bad a job did my father do on Lin when he worked him over?" Kim asked bluntly.

"It isn't pretty, but they can't have expected him to have walked away from a fight with the government unscarred."

"It's not his wellbeing I'm concerned about," Kim corrected her. "The second he thinks he's safe, he could sell out your whole team. And you don't have enough men on the ground to grab him up."

This had Sydney worried as well, but she had been through enough of these assignments to know that a snatch and grab of the target would probably lead to a longer and more drawn out interrogation with even more diminishing returns-- something they didn't have time for. And she was pretty sure that Kim knew this, too.

"You're the one with access to the other material," Sydney said, changing the topic. "How is the retrieval project on the disk we found at Wang's house going?"

"Slow," Kim admitted. "Whoever it was Scarlet Circle has working in their IT department must be a damn genius, because it doesn't seem to bare any resemblance to the encryption program we found on the hard drives at Hobson Laboratories. These guys definitely didn't want us learning their secrets."

"You get anything from that part of the search?"

"Marshall's managed to recover about twenty-five percent of the data that was on that hard drive. The majority of it is some kind of series of scientific equations that are way over my head. I asked Marshall if he had any idea what they meant, he said his best hypothesis was that it was some kind of genetic map, possibly of the virus."

"That makes even less sense than what we've learned," Sydney admitted. "You'd think they'd want to hold on to that information."

"Marshall admitted that it was only a guess," Kim said. "He also told me it's going to take at least another two hours for him to finish recovering the data, unless he drops everything else, and focuses all his energy on it."

"Right now, I guess we'll have to keep that particular avenue on the back burner," Sydney told her reluctantly. "We've got a lot of things to juggle, and even Marshall subdivided is still better than almost anyone else giving it their all."

"How long until you and my father get to the meeting point?"

Sydney looked at her watch. "Less than five minutes."

"All right. I'll get to work make sure the tracers are receiving, and that the micro-cameras are working." Kim said. "The rest of Ying's file has been texted to your PDA's."

"You're a pretty good juggler, too."

"Yeah, but I'm still not ready to tackle flaming torches," Kim joked. "Yet. Call me when you're ready."

**1:47:17/1:47:18/1:47:19/1:47:20**

"Unbelievable," Nadia said as she took in the information that CTU had just received. "How sure are we of this information?"

"The President's brother doesn't strike you as reliable enough?' Tony asked.

"We're talking about bringing down one of the wealthiest and most powerful defense contractors in the nation," Dixon reminded them. "We need more than the hearsay of his wife to accuse him of treason."

Tony looked at him with a bland glance that said, clearly "and how much of a rookie do you think I am?" Instead, he merely said, "I'm calling in three reserve techs to start going through Milliken's financial and personal papers. But if this guy really was working for the enemy, he probably knew how to do so without leaving a paper trail. And the fact is, we do have Milliken and Grady in custody. We're probably a lot better off starting there, which is why I'm sending Vaughn to interrogate him."

Now Nadia was worried. "You're sending Vaughn to the retreat?"

"CDC has just finished testing and decontaminating the first group of people at the retreat," Tony said. "As per the President's instructions, Milliken is being sent to their facilities a few miles south of the retreat. Vaughn's heading there. As for Grady, he admitted that he served as a middleman for the manufacture of the virus. However, he has refrained from naming Milliken as the man behind the curtain, saying he only worked with go-betweens for the individual involved."

Dixon crossed his arms and frowned thoughtfully. "Do we believe him?"

"He knows the only way to save his ass is to give up a bigger fish. If he isn't going to give up Milliken to save himself, that probably means they never met. Besides, someone who's been in so many backroom deals as Milliken has probably knows nine different ways to keep his ass covered."

"Has Grady given up any other places that might be targets for the virus?" Nadia asked.

"He claims the virus was only developed to be used for covert acts of assignation of foreign enemies, not domestic ones." Tony snorted, turning back to the file. "He's giving the line that this virus was never meant to be used against America, let alone be used by an agency like Scarlet Circle."

This kind of bullshit was now so familiar to them that none of them even bother to comment further on it. Instead, Nadia asked a more pertinent question. "Have you had any luck narrowing down the radius where this guy Lin called half an hour ago?"

"No surprise, Scarlet Circle doesn't have any known agents operating out of Watts, so that's probably out," Tony told them. "Which leads me to think that Ying called from there because he was preparing to make some kind of delivery."

"And given how heavy the black population of Watts is, and it's troubled history over the past half-century, there are few places a terrorist would consider more ideal to demonstrate this virus' effectiveness," Dixon said worriedly. "How long until you can get CDC out here?"

"Fifteen minutes, but they're not going to be much help unless we can narrow down the parameters of the target." Tony told him.

A thought came to Dixon. "Part of the call radius was in the South Central section of Watts, right?"

"Yeah," Nadia acknowledged. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that more forty years ago, riots nearly destroyed this section of LA," Dixon said. "I think that these guys would probably consider it a good place to finish the job."

**1:52:49/1:52:50/1:52:51**

"Are the tracers receiving?" Jack asked Curtis as he watched Lin walk down to the meeting point.

"Coming in, loud and clear," Manning said. "So is the feed from the parabolic microphone. We should have audio soon enough."

None of the agents had liked the fact that they weren't going to be within five hundred feet of Lin. It gave him far too much room to get away. But they were well aware that Wang's men would be on the look out anything remotely suspicious, and that this was probably the best they could do.

"Marshall, do we have eyes?" Sydney asked from the vehicle that she was driving with Baker.

"I've re-tasked the satellite over the corner of Slauson and Vermont. If something moves, we'll be the first to know. Well, except for them, but then they'll be acting, so of course--"

"Marshall," Sydney said warningly.

"There is a blue Toyota SUV approaching the rendezvous point," Marshall switched gears abruptly. "Looks like this is it."

Jack looked through his binoculars to verify this. "Copy that. Mission is go."

The SUV circled the area twice before it pulled to a stop on the corner. Two men, one Asian, one American, neither immediately identifiable, walked up to Lin. They looked at him for all of five seconds before the American knocked him to the ground, and the other grabbed him by the ankles.

"Get him in. Now." The American ordered, as they shoved him into the car.

"This could be all we're going to get, Jack," Sydney said frantically.

"Neither of the men was Ying," Jack pointed out. "Right now, he's are best chance of getting to Wang or Sark. Let's pay this out."

By now they had managed to get Lin into the car. "What the hell are you doing?" Lin had managed to say.

"You disappear for two hours, then show up, tell us you managed to get away from the government, and you just expect us to believe you?" the American said. "Now shut up and sit still."

They had no visuals (they hadn't been able to get a micro-camera in the time between the call and the meet) but Sydney was pretty sure that they were giving him an electronic sweep. Marshall's transmitter could get back ninety percent of the current electronic equipment, but Sark (at least) had always had access to technology that could give him a slight edge.

"All right, he's clean," the Chinese man said.

It was hard to tell tones over a parabolic microphone, but Jack had been at this for a long time, and he was pretty sure that something was amiss. He also knew that what he had just told to Sydney was correct, and that to play this out at least a little longer.

The car began to pull away from the corner. "Do you have a visual on the vehicle?" Jack asked Marshall.

"Yes, blue SUV, heading west towards the harbor freeway."

"Is the data that we needed to get rid of gone?" the American was now demanding.

"We managed to purge almost all of it," Lin said, "but there's always a possibility that they'll recover something."

Now Sydney didn't like where this conversation was going, and she turned the keys in the car. "Are both tracers still receiving?" she asked, as she began to follow after.

"Yes, we're getting signals from both of them."

It appeared everything was going according to plan, but something now seemed off.

"Wang needs to know how exposed he is," the American said.

"They have nothing that can be traced back to him," Lin told them.

"And Yi?" the Asian asked. "They could get anything off him."

Jack didn't like where this conversation was headed. "Do you still have a twenty on the van?"

Now Marshall was sounding more concerned than usual. "If they keep heading west, they'll hit the tunnel in about a minute. There'll be a blind spot, it could be long enough for them to slip through."

"I think you know what we have to do," the Asian said soberly.

"Okay, we have to grab them _now." _Sydney punched the gas.

Unfortunately, even a car can't outrun a bullet. In the ten seconds it took for Sydney's vehicle to catch them up, a shot was fired, and the passengers threw Lin's body out of the car. Sydney had to swerve to avoid hitting them, which gave them enough time to drive the blue SUV into the tunnel.

By now, Sydney's car was closer to them that Jack's was. "Jack, Lin's dead, they are headed to the tunnel, I'm in pursuit!"

"Marshall, get the word out to LAPD," Jack yelled into the radio. "We are in pursuit of a suspect driving a blue Toyota SUV heading west out of the Harbor Freeway tunnel! Suspects are armed and dangerous but must be taken alive!"

**1:59:57/1:59:58/1:59:59/2;00:00**


	9. 2:00 PM TO 3:00 PM

**CHAPTER 9**

**The Following Takes Place Between 2:00 P.M. and 3:00 P.M.**

There were three men in the Toyota racing down the Harbour Freeway: the driver, Zhen; Walker, the American whose electronic sweep had revealed the tracers on Lin; and Jia Kammin, who had shot him. Because Lin had been a long time member of Scarlet Circle, Jia had not been happy that Ying, who by default was now one of the high men in the organization, had ordered Lin executed, and had also implied that they were to keep the government busy while the other cells carried out their missions.

Which was why, knowing that the government was in pursuit of them and that Ying would consider them 'expendable', decided to go over his head, and dialed a number he was not supposed to call.

"Yes?"

"It's Jia."

To say that Li Chen Wang was not glad to hear from them would be an understatement of gargantuan proportion. "Why are you calling me?" he demanded.

"Did you approve Lin's assassination?" Jia asked bluntly.

"You've been in this organization for twelve years," Wang replied just as bluntly. "You know that nothing happens without my approval. It was an honor for me to work with a man of Takeshi's caliber, but he had become a liability to today's plan."

"And what about us?" Jia said. "Have we become liabilities? Are Zhen and myself expendable?"

There was a pause at the other end. "The government is tracking you even as we speak," Wang said.

"They're probably trying to," Jia admitted. "However, we can outrun them. If you'll spare some of your precious manpower and _get us out of it_."

"This is not the kind of insubordination that I tolerate. Why on earth should I help you?"

"Because the next target for the virus is within the hour," Jia pointed out, "and as long as CTU is chasing after us instead of Ying, there's a much better chance that it will be deployed without a problem."

Wang considered this for a moment "Where are you right now?" he finally said.

"Heading north on Route 11, towards USC."

"All right," he said finally, "I'll arrange for an intervention, but you had damn well better make sure that you are as far from the target as possible. I'll call you with a location in five minutes."

Li Chen Wang, head of the Los Angeles cell of Scarlet Circle for more than five years, did not like receiving ultimatums from above or below. This operation had been in the works for two years, and he was not happy at the way leaks were starting to spring in his well-laid plans. Sheng Leung had gone dark, and there was no information as to whether or not he had succeeded, and the incident at Hobson Laboratories had probably exposed him far more than he had liked.

So he tried to assure himself that things were still proceeding by contacting the next man in the chain.

"Yes?" Thomas Ying asked.

"Lin is dead," Wang had said.

"Do we know the amount of our exposure?"

Ying always was so practical. "I have kept the participants in this plan very far apart," Wang reminded him. "Lin only knew so much, just as you do."

"Are you saying that I'm expendable as well?" Ying demanded.

"You're the one who insisted that he be taken care of," Wang said. "We could have gotten the full length of the government's involvement, protected our man on the inside."

"Don't tell me you're starting to become soft at this juncture."

"If you really think that, you don't me at all," Wang was starting to sound self-assured. "I have little tolerance for people who make mistakes. Remember that when it comes time for you to give your report."

"I'm at the drop point," Ying told him. "All I have to do is get the virus into the building's ventilation."

"How long will that take?"

"Five more minutes."

"This is going to be our first high-profile target," Wang told him. "Do not disappoint me. There's been too much of that already."

**2:06:44/2:06:45/2:06:46**

Somehow, in all her combined years with the CIA, Sydney had been on very few high speed chases. There had been a lot of driving, but most of that was done after the hard work was really over, with very few hot pursuits of hostiles with evil on their mind, and certainly almost never in Los Angeles itself.

Now, as she raced her vehicle after the people who were their only direct link to this virus, she found herself wondering why these people hadn't simply driven their SUV into a semi. They had to know that even if they got away, there were going to be some heavy duty repercussions with Wang or Sark-- men like them didn't appreciate unplanned carnage if it distracted from their underlying objective.

Furthermore, this was the third time today that the members of Scarlet Circle had been faced with death or capture-- and had chosen the latter. Sydney had encountered a handful of terrorists who would rather have their life than their liberty but this was not a method that was passed down to the grunts in the field, unless the rules in the Far East were much different than the ones everywhere else.

All of this flashed through Sydney's mind in a peripheral way, her sole focus was on running these bastards to ground. These guys were smart, though-- they had chosen a high traffic route down the freeway-- adding a lot more effort to the chase.

"Jack!" she shouted into her radio. "These guys are making my life hell! How long until LAPD can intercept?"

"Are they still heading west?" Jack shouted back

"Yeah, and if we keep going the way, we're going to crash in the middle of USC any minute now! They end up there, there could be collateral damage up the ass!"

"Marshall has both your cars on satellite. According to him, you're going to hit the exit to Baldwin Hills in less than two minutes. We've got a roadblock set up at the overpass!"

Sydney cursed as she frantically swerved around a car. "Somehow, I don't think the sight of a wall of cops is going to ram the fear of God into these people!" she pointed out.

"Five seconds before they hit the roadblock, they'll let up a chain of spikes that'll puncture all four of their tires," Jack told her. "It'll do the job!"

"All right," she said reluctantly. "I'm going to hang up and do _my_ job! And these sons-of-bitches had better have a direct link to Sark for all the fucking stress they're putting us through!"

Sydney could see the overpass coming up, so she refocused her attention on the road ahead, and the car less than twenty feet from her.

What happened next took place so rapidly that Sydney only barely had time to react-- anything else would have killed her.

Ten seconds after the overpass had loomed into view, a maroon van appeared from the right side of the horizon, almost exactly between her and the car they were chasing.

Sydney automatically hit the brakes, yanking the wheel as far to the left as she could. The truck seemed to curve to the left, throwing itself into Sydney's path. Her reactions were lightning-like, but God couldn't have averted this crash

Fortunately, her seatbelt saved her from going through the windshield. Agent Baker, in the passenger seat next to her, was not as fortunate, leaving his left arm behind, as his body crashed through it.

Syd blinked a few times, trying to clear her head. Her vision was a blur of red…blood? No—_crap, the engine's on fire! _Frantically, she pushed open the car door—it wouldn't open. She'd need to force it. She pushed at the button released for the seatbelt—it was _jammed_. She yanked furiously at the belt, but it wouldn't give—sturdy Ford trucks indeed. Without even thinking about it, she reached for the knife on her CTU belt, and cut herself free. She drew her knees up to her chest, then kicked through the front window, and pulled herself out of the car.

_I should be dead _passed through her mind as she stood up, and frantically tried to regain her footing. _How the fuck did I survive this? _

She stumbled, and then fell to her hands and knees. She thought about crawling away, but that wouldn't work—too slow. She dropped and rolled, throwing her body weight so that she could get to the other side of the street. One gallon of gasoline was equal to 20 sticks of TNT, so that wouldn't do her too much good—but at least the fragments would go flying above her.

Sydney looked back to the car—and noticed that she had left a blood trail. She barely paid attention to the pain until she noticed that her hands were cut and bloody, and blood dripped off her nose—_Damn it, I hate facial wounds._

But compared to Agent Baker, the driver of the truck that had hit her and probably a couple of the guys on the roadblock, she was walking away from this only slightly less hurt than Clark Kent would have been.

She rose to her feet. Phrases of prophecies she'd thought she'd forgotten-- about Rimbaldi and the Chosen One-- went through her head, as she numbly tried to get reception on her now damaged beyond repair cell phone.

"Lady!" Someone was shouting in her face. "You all right?"

In the strange disconnected haze she was in, Syd noticed that the blue SUV that she had been chasing was not also in a pile of rubble. Somehow, she knew she had to deal with this, also.

"That's the dumbest question I've heard today," she managed to get out, before her legs gave out from under her.

**2:14:32/2:14:33/2:14:34/2:14:34**

Watts was one of the largest black communities in the world, and though conditions had improved over the past few decades, there were a lot of people there who remembered very vividly when the region had gone up in flames. Even though the government was there to potentially save thousands from a horrible death, the citizens did not look happy that they were being ordered around by people with badges.

Nadia sighed and shook her head as she stepped into her biohazard suit. There wasn't too much room in the back of the CTU van, but it had enough room for a half dozen cramped people on the way to a black op, it should have enough room for two women to get dressed. "Why do I have the feeling that we're not going to be incredibly persuasive about today's threat?"

Michelle tightened the seal on her boots. "Because we're from the government and we're here to help you? In LA, the most gang-ridden city in the world short of full Mafia presence?"

"I wish Dixon were here," Nadia said as they began walking towards the CDC station. "Somehow I think his being here would help soothe the natives... and I wish I hadn't said that last phrase."

Dessler nearly rolled her eyes. Nadia had obviously been in LA too long if she were that concerned about being PC. "You know our protocols, Nadia," Michelle said. "CTU isn't putting any more lives at risk for this venture than it absolutely has to. Our priority is saving lives, not keeping the peace. And bringing Dixon here, when the virus is engineered specifically to kill anyone in his ethnic group, would be putting him in more danger. We couldn't even bring Curtis."

"Given the way Scarlet Circle is behaving, we may not be able to do much of either," Nadia said, as her phone rang. "Santos."

"Are you and Michelle prepped?" Jack Bristow asked her from APO.

"We're about to begin a sweep of the radius where we think the cell call same from," she told him. "The police have established roadblocks around the potential target zone, and we're about to do a building by building search."

"We may have a probable target for you to begin the search," Mr. Bristow told them. "The Watts Towers is located two blocks from the center of the grid. Three hundred people live in that housing development, and the far easternmost section is on the border of Compton. They put the virus in the right place, it would cause a major panic in that section, and probably all kinds of internal and external strife."

"Have satellites or security cameras picked up any location on Thomas Ying or anyone else from Scarlet Circle?" Nadia asked.

"No, but the security footage from this part of the city is badly behind the times," Sydney's father reminded her. "Marshall and Kim are cleaning it up, but that may take too long. Your best bet is residence-by-residence search."

"That could very well add to the conflict were hoping to avoid," Nadia said.

"Oh, it's going to," Jack Bristow said grimly. "But we'll worry about fallout after we find Ying.

Nadia had her doubts, but she also knew time was an issue. And arguing with Jack Bristow was almost as bad as arguing with Bauer; sometimes worse. "All right. Tell CTU that we're starting out."

"Copy that."

Mr. Bristow turned away from his desk at APO to see Kim scowling at him. With a low, calm, but fairly intense tone, she asked, "Was there any reason that you didn't tell her that Sydney's been in a multi-vehicle collision?"

"Yes," Sydney's father said, "You're just not going to like it. I didn't tell her, or Dixon, or Vaughn, because we are in the middle of a major crisis on several fronts. I can't have our best people distracted, because… Sydney may be in bad shape. It's cold, and unfeeling…"

"And it's something Arvin Sloane would do," Kim's tone was icy now, "or were the stories you've been telling me lies?"

This was a low blow, and it did hurt, but the mask that was Mr. Bristow's face never moved, and gave nothing away.

"With casualties in the millions, young lady, it would serve no purpose," he said, allowing a trace of emotion to enter his voice-- for him, a sign he was under a major strain. "And the honest truth is, I can do nothing for Sydney, here or there. So please, let me handle this the only way I know how."

**2:22:14/2:22:15/2:22:16**

Jack Bauer had always been the first to shrug off help from others on days like today when he thought that he could walk away from a bad situation, and he knew that Sydney was cut from the same cloth. Nevertheless, he was still surprised when he arrived at the roadblock to find Sydney pushing away medical assistance, and trying to get to get to her feet.

"Agent Bristow," one of the medics was telling her, as he put his hand on her shoulder, "you've just been a major trauma; we have to make sure that you aren't seriously hurt--"

Sydney grabbed the hand and peeled it off of her, and twisted—the motion rolled down the man's arm, and he was in a barrel armlock before he knew it. "I know my body," Sydney told him. "Nothing's broken, nothing's been pulled."

Jack put a hand on her wrist. "Sydney, you need to go to a hospital,"

"I've been to one already. That's where the whole shitstorm started," Sydney joked.

The medic added his two cents, despite that she held him immobile. "You could have a concussion, you could be bleeding internally, hell, you could have some kind of brain damage," the medic said frantically.

Bauer didn't even blink. "You must have a concussion, you're kidding around."

Sydney glared at Jack. "The only way I could get brain damage would have been if my head hit something, and in that car the only thing that it could connect with was the windshield," Sydney pointed to the burnt rubble that had been the CTU vehicle. "If I had, I'd be dead already."

"Sydney, you can't just shrug this off," Jack tried to reason with her.

"Shrug this off? This van had my name on it!" Sydney all but shouted. "We were this close to catching the guys in the car, and somehow Wang throws out the ultimate _deus ex machina!_ Now, while everybody's bending over backwards to make sure I can bend over forwards, those assholes have fucking made their escape!"

"Syd, we'll catch up to them."

"And how exactly are we going to do that?" Sydney argued. "We don't have any security footage, I'm willing to bet all the money in my pocket that no one at the roadblock saw which way they went, and you know that Wang's going to make sure we don't find these people until it's too late."

"Can you let me go now?" the medic whined. Bristow let him go without even noticing, so she could face Jack with the full force of her venting.

For his part, Jack was beginning to wonder if Sydney really had brain damage – she was starting to sound delusional. "How do you know that?"

"They knew that they were being pursued by us, and they didn't try to kill themselves," Sydney was now speaking in a lower tone. "These people clearly had a greater agenda then just making sure that Lin was taken care of. Otherwise, they wouldn't have staged an incident this spectacular."

There was a certain amount of logic to this. But still, men like Arvin Sloane had used incidents far more over the top than this for far less result. "Do you have any idea what that could be?"

"Aside from them having some kind of cargo that was too valuable for them to lose, nothing else occurs to me," Sydney admitted. "And it's a moot point because we lost track of them the second I… hit that van."

For the first time, Sydney considered the vehicle that she had made contact with. It was a four by four, and the front end had been smashed in by her car. However… "What happened to the driver?"

One of the cops responded. "We just got his corpse out of the driver's seat. He wasn't wearing his seatbelt. I don't think that we found any ID."

Jack's mind was connecting dots. "This van had to come from somewhere," he said, "and that driver had to have a phone. Otherwise, he'd have no idea where to intercept you."

"And it couldn't have been from far away," Sydney reasoned. "They had maybe seven or eight minutes to pull this whole thing off."

"What lane of the freeway did that thing come from?" Jack asked the cop.

"From the westernmost lane," Sydney interrupted. Off Jack's look, she added: "Hey, I remember which way I had to turn to avoid becoming tomato paste."

_I'd forgotten Sydney had a joke reflex when it came to near death experiences, _Jack thought as he pulled out his phone. "Marshall, this is Bauer."

"Jack, hey!" Marshall sounded even more nervous than usual. "How's Syd doing?"

"She's still alive, and relatively unhurt," Jack told him.

Marshall exhaled. "Oh my god," he said. "I mean I heard the radio report, and I just thought, you know, Sydney would be lucky to walk away unhurt. I mean, um, she can walk away, right?"

"Assure him I'm fine," Sydney told Jack, but he chose not to. The amount of assurance Marshall needed didn't fit into any time from Bauer had.

"Marshall, I need you to find me the owner of a maroon Subaru four-by-four, license number FN4-1YL."

"Hang on," Marshall was back within ten seconds. "It belongs to a Howard Cason, student at USC."

"It's probably stolen then…" Jack trailed off, as Sydney walked towards the driver of the vehicle. It was hard to tell because of all the broken glass, but it looked like the driver was American, and just out of his teens.

"The freeway does come out at USC," Sydney reminded Jack

"Marshall, describe Cason to me…damnit." Jack slapped the phone shut. "What would a college student be doing in the middle of a Chinese terrorist plot?"

"When I was in college, I thought I'd joined the CIA," Sydney reminded Jack.

Jack started walking towards his car, but stopped when he saw Sydney moving towards him. "I don't think you're in any condition to be going anywhere except…" he told her.

"Jack, I think we both know that I'm not going to waste three or four hours getting worked up, when we have this kind of crisis," Sydney said. "Now I can either go on my own to check out this lead, or you can take me with you so you can make sure I don't faint or collapse. Make the smart play."

Once again, Jack found himself wishing Sydney didn't think so much like him.

**2:31: 53/2:31:54/2:31:55/2:31:56**

Michael Vaughn circled Milliken, and he wished that all his interrogation rooms were walled with sheer white panels. The clean room was made for biological purposes only. However, the atmosphere was perfect for an interrogation of Michael's variety-- a friendly chat with psychological pressures coming onto the subject like a vice.

"I don't know how many ways I can say this," Milliken told Vaughn again. "I don't know anything about a Project Turquoise."

Vaughn kept his arms folded in a relaxed, easy going manner, a half-smile on his face. "Tell it to Simon Grady."

"Grady's a lowly peon in Defense, who's mentioning my name so that he can seem big," Milliken countered.

"Hmm, funny..." Michael leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table. "You told the President that you'd never met the man. How come you didn't tell him he'd been at your house for dinner?"

"I have meetings with a lot of people, Mr. Vaughn; the fact that I chose not to tell the President that about one person doesn't mean I've decided to work with him," Milliken responded smoothly. "Grady has enough connections that makes him valuable to deal with from time to time. You honestly telling me you don't run across the same people in your line of work?"

"And Julia?"

"My wife has nothing to do with this."

"She does when she says she can connect you to this biological weapon."

If Milliken was even fazed by this, it only lasted for a moment. "My wife is a lying philanderer who will say whatever she has to in order to get what she thinks she has coming to her."

"Accusing you of conspiracy seems extreme."

"She signed a pre-nup. I divorce her, she gets nothing. If I die, or if I end up in prison, she becomes the sole executor to my entire estate." Milliken paused. "Considering what I'm worth, she'd implicate me in the Kennedy assassination. Now I've been more than reasonable, I've tolerated being manhandled by the Secret Service and the CIA, forced to strip and be decontaminated for some virus I supposedly created and you assure me I'm not in danger of contracting, and you're accusing me of betraying me the government. I've endured this because we do appear to be in some kind of crisis, but now my patience is at an end. I demand to speak with my attorney, and I refuse to answer any more questions."

The truth was, Vaughn didn't quite know where to go from here. When Congressman Palmer had told him and Tony what Julia Milliken had revealed to him, they had been unsure on how to proceed. Questioning a wealthy, powerful man, who was one of the President's oldest backers was a different story than a suspect felon, or even a Defense Department employee -- you couldn't just lock Allan Milliken in a confined space, and start pulling out his fingernails, much as he might deserve it. The only reasons they had been permitted to give him a relatively soft Q and A was because the President had convinced him to.

So he decided to see if he could get some leverage another way. Michael turned around, pulled out his cell, and dialed Chloe, who had been going through Milliken's hard drive.

"O'Brian."

"Chloe, it's Vaughn. You find anything yet?"

"I'm going through the business records of a multi-millionaire defense contractor," Chloe reminded him. "I'm having a hard enough time going through his income tax returns."

"Julia Milliken said that she had found a paper trail that linked Milliken to Grady."

"No insult to the woman's intelligence, but she wouldn't know a genuine paper trail to anything if it bit her in the ass," Chloe said bluntly. "It's not the kind of thing you can find with a simple glance through some stray business papers."

"Are you saying that she's lying?" Vaughn asked.

"I'm just a tech, it's not part of my job description to figure out whether people are lying or not," Chloe argued.

Vaughn thought this through. The fact was, no one had talked to Julia Milliken -- she hadn't taken any of the calls CTU left on her voice mail, and she hadn't yet returned to her house. Allan was right-- she did have more reason to lie than he did. He was about to suggest that they try and locate her, when there was a beep on his line. "Hold on a second," he told her.

"Agent Vaughn, this is Aaron Pierce. I think someone from CTU had better send someone over."

"What's up?"

"We've found Sheng Leung."

This was another surprise. "He's still alive?" Vaughn asked

"We'd interrogate him ourselves, but some of the press is still hanging around, and we need to keep this under the radar as long as possible," Pierce told him.

"I'll be right there," Vaughn get back on line. "Chloe, we've located the man who exposed the Chinese Premier to the virus. "

"I guess that qualifies as a fresh lead," Chloe said.

"Call me if you find any evidence linking _either _Milliken to this virus." Vaughn asked.

"So you don't believe her."

"It's part of _my_ job description not to believe anyone."

**2:39:46/2:39:47/2:39:48**

"I don't give a fuck what kind of virus you think I'm in danger of getting," the black man in a wheelchair spat out again. "I'm not letting any government people take me anywhere without a goddamn warrant!"

Nadia was running out of patience. If Scarlet Circle really had targeted the Watts Towers in order to cause maximum chaos, they had made an inspired choice. Hundreds of people were crowded in a housing complex that was just a step or two above a slum. Searching the building theoretically shouldn't have been that difficult, but it was turning into a nightmare. The hallways were so crowded with tenants, CDC people, and law-enforcement agents that the noise was really beginning to rattle the walls.

"Mr. Howell," Nadia tried again. "We strongly suspect that there's a virus that could kill you in a matter of hours in this complex. We are trying to get you out for your own good--"

"'For our own good!' Howell choked back a laugh that had absolutely no humor in it. "That's why they told us we couldn't go to school with the white boys, or eat at the same lunch table, or why we got stopped by the po-lice for DWB. For our own good. Would you be doing this for them rich boys on Sunset, or your people in South Central?"

There was a general roar of approval at this from the tenants. Nadia was not concerned for her own well being, but she could tell that some of her colleagues were getting rattled. Riots had been started in this city for much less than what was going on, and those kinds of repercussions would be nearly as bad as if the virus got out.

She left Howell for the moment, and got on the radio. "Michelle, we're sitting on a goddamn time bomb, " she told her colleague. "Are we any closer to locating Ying?"

"We've combed three-quarters of the search grid, and so far we've come up with nothing," Michelle said over the radio.

"What about the virus? Is anybody showing any systems?"

"Not so far," Michelle paused. "Which strikes me as odd also. If Scarlet Circle really was going to deliver the virus, you'd think they'd have done it by now. This is the opportunity for maximum carnage."

"You think maybe Ying's come and gone?" Nadia asked. "Left the virus somewhere we won't be able to find it, and stolen away into the night."

"It's the middle of the afternoon, Nadia," Michelle joked. "I see your point, but CDC has been doing virus counts on the air for the last half-hour. If he had left it on time delay, we'd be picking something up by now."

What Nadia and Michelle didn't know was that Ying was walking among them even as they spoke. Using a biohazard suit and a fake ID that they had constructed, Ying had shot one of the doctors that had arrived, stolen his identification and taken the place of a CDC doctor twenty minutes earlier.

As for why he hadn't dropped off the virus yet, he had been watching the tension and anxiety come to a slow boil over the last fifteen minutes, and had decided to wait for just the right opportunity Which occurred when he ran into a young man listening to a boom box near the wall separating Watts Towers from the rest of South Central.

"Hey!" he yelled at the teenager "Why are you outside the cordoned area, kid?"

The young man got to his feet. Though he couldn't be more than fourteen, he had a gun in his belt. "You want to move me along, motherfucker?" he said calmly.

There would have been a lot of irony had Ying met his end there. But that wasn't the plan. Instead he put his gloved hand on the ground, and laid down the test-tube just an inch way from the boom box. "I didn't realize that you felt that way, sir," he said in a calm tone. "Stay where you are."

Then he started to walk away, thinking the hard part was over.

**2:47:09/2:47:10/2:47:11/2:47:12**

Jack watched Sydney open the door that led to Howard Cason's on campus housing. "What exactly are you expecting to find here?"

"Cason is an ordinary biology major at USC with no known psychological or mental problems, yet today he decides to skip his 2:00 class for no apparent reason," Sydney reminded him. . "Less than fifteen minutes later, he crashes his van into my car, killing himself and two other people. He owns a cell phone, but for some reason, there was none to be found when we searched his vehicle."

"He probably got rid of it before he crashed into you." Jack countered.

"Which still begs the question as to why a relatively ordinary nineteen-year-old with no obvious connection to a fringe terrorist group would sacrifice his life for them." Sydney told him, as she began to search his closets. "He may have been smart enough to junk his phone, but I find it hard to believe he emptied his room of any evidence of his connection to Scarlet Circle."

"Given the way colleges go now, he could have been recruited by an English professor," Jack muttered as he followed her in. He glanced around. "Do we have any idea where Cason's roommate is?"

"Supposed to be still in class. LAPD is trying to track him down." Sydney looked at the women's clothing that was hanging in the closet. "Maybe he can tell us which of them had a girlfriend living here."

Jack was looking over his desk, when he found a framed photo at the corner of Cason's desk. "I've got a feeling you may be on to something. Look at this."

The picture was of an Asian-American teenager with streaked blonde hair. "Doesn't exactly fit the description of the typical femme fatale," Sydney said. "But then they can come in all shapes and sizes."

"If they do, they're really recruiting them young," Jack pointed out.

"Excuse me, are you with the police?" Both agents looked up to see a nervous-looking brown-haired man in the late end of his teens standing at the doorway. "They told me that Howard was in some kind of automobile accident, but I just talked to him an hour ago."

"Sir, my name is Jack Bauer. This is Sydney Bristow. We both work for the government at the Los Angeles Counter Terrorist Unit." Jack walked over to the door. "You're Nathaniel Whitworth, Howard Cason's roommate?"

The nervous-looking man nodded. "Is something wrong with Howard?"

Sydney walked over to him. "Howard is dead, Nathaniel," she told him gently. "And it wasn't an accident. He drove his car into a freeway overpass, and he killed two other people."

"That's not possible." Whitworth appeared to be going through the same numbness that she and Jack had seen more times then they would like to have counted, and as was the case so often, they couldn't hold his hand for long.

"Nathaniel, you said that you spoke to Howard an hour ago," Sydney asked. "Did he give any indication that something was wrong?"

"To be honest, he sounded a little off," Whitworth admitted. "We were in the quad between classes, when he got this call on his cell. He listened to it for about a minute, then hung up and started walking away. I asked him where he was going, and he mumbled something about having to feed his dog."

"And he doesn't have one, does he?" Sydney was beginning to get a picture of what might have happened, and she didn't like it at all.

Whitworth shook his head. "And he left his phone behind. I called after him, but he didn't even bother to look at me. I should've done something then, but class was starting in five minutes."

"Do you still have the phone?" Jack asked. Whitworth nodded and handed it over.

"Nathaniel," Sydney said, showing him the photograph. "This woman here, was she Howard's girlfriend?"

Whitworth nodded. "That's Alicia Ro. She and Howard have been seeing each other for the past month."

"Could you give us her address?"

"You think she's involved in this?"

"I'm positive of it," Sydney said grimly.

**2:53:49/2:53:50/2:53:51**

"Agent Santos," one of the field agents who had come with Nadia and Michelle walked up to her.

"You find something?"

"I need to see you face to face. Meet me at the far eastern end of the high-rise."

Nadia was about to ask why the agent was being circumspect when she stopped to consider something that had escaped her notice. There was one way that Ying could have escaped their notice even though they'd been here for nearly an hour.

Though it was awkward to reach for it in the suit and gloves she was wearing, Nadia slowly removed her gun from her side holster, but it kept it out of sight until she reached her destination.

"What is it?" she asked as soon as she saw who she was looking for.

"I was establishing the quarantine parameter, and I found this." The agent-- a man, which did not ease Nadia's discomfort one bit-- gestured towards a dumpster. She lifted the lid to reveal a dead body in a white lab coat.

"Any ID?"

"No, but I fingerprinted him and sent it back to CTU. They just got the search done." He held up his PDA. "CDC. They claim that he was one of the first doctors they sent here."

This confirmed exactly Nadia's deepest suspicions. Trying to figure out the best way to do this, she took out her phone and speed dialed Michelle.

"Dessler."

"Michelle, Ying is on site. He is impersonating a CDC doctor named Robert Jaffe. I need you to find him as circumspectly as you possibly can."

Michelle heard this and immediately went out on the radio. "I need all CDC doctors to report to the front of the Towers."

Two of the doctors began walking towards her. The third, however, suddenly went still.

Michelle had had next to no experience in the field, so her lack of finesse in what followed could at least partly be understood.. She very slowly started moving towards the fake doctor, trying to make it seem casual. Her demeanor remained somewhat stiff, however, or perhaps Ying just had faster reactions; in either case, the result was the same.

Yang pulled out a gun. "Don't come any closer!" he said clearly in a flawless American accent.

"Don't try it!" Michelle said. "There's nowhere to run!"

"I'm not the one who has to run," he said, in a whisper. Then he turned ninety degrees, and shot one of the tenants standing not five feet away.

However, Los Angeles was the drive by capital of the world for a reason, and there was one Blood in the crowd, who, in addition to being harassed and hassled by the cops for what seemed like every day of his life, had been tending towards paranoia as soon as the feds had shown up. The second Ying fired., that man drew down on the gook in the space suit who had fired into the crowd.

The flaw in Ying's plan was revealed as he learned too late that his bio-hazard suit wasn't the tactical model of the CTU/APO crowd, punching through the cloth, and ripping through his body like tissue

Unfortunately for that man, Nadia had been shot at more often than he had fired off rounds. She wheeled around into a crouch , and fired on the blood, killing him instantly.

Then the crowd _really _started to get pissed. The tenants were for the most part old and unfit to fight, but there were a lot of them. And when they started attacking the government agents, they had no chance of getting away safely. The fact that the virus was being let loose while this was happening went completely unnoticed.

From a safe distance, Jia watched the mayhem unfold.. He speed-dialed Wang.

"Yes?"

"Ying was successful in his mission, but I don't think he'll be walking away from this one," Jia told them.

"Then stop talking and get to the rendezvous point." Wang said. "It's going to be even harder to get to President Palmer. We can't afford to waste anytime."

**2:59:57/2:59:58/2:59:59/3:00:00**


	10. 3:00 PM TO 4:00 PM

Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**The Following Takes Place Between 3:00 P.M. and 4:00 P.M.**

Nadia didn't open fire on the crowd. She had fired a simple, three-round burst that dropped a shooter from the crowd. That was all. She didn't fire one more bullet. She quickly scanned the area for another shooter, and was about to put her gun away when the crowd roared in on them.

Santos pushed back, onto her feet, and into a combat stance. And she gave the only order she could think of.

"Fall back!"

Unfortunately for the crowd, it wasn't a matter of turning tail and running. Standard military retreating since the wars of Napoleon was to slowly, calmly, step backwards, your offensive side facing the enemy.

Which was the the first wave of the attackers crashed into a wall of ready federal agents, half of whom had military training.

Nadia didn't even bother engaging the one attack with the broken bottle. He slashed for her, and she kicked him in the crotch, battle over. As she recoiled from the kick, she dropped forward a little to slam a hammerfist down into his kidneys.

Another attacker came in with a baseball bat, swinging it down like a hammer. She burst forward, around the first attacker, one arm up and diagonal to the ground. The bat came down, and she met the attacker's wrist with her own, and her arm deflected the arch of the strike, making it slide down her arm. She dropped the arm around the bat, and met the man's face with a roundhouse punch. She tore the bat away and retreated back with the rest of her line.

Michelle, however, didn't have anything in the way of restraint. One girl came after her, and she pistol whipped her casually. Her boyfriend saw the attack, and charged. She sidestepped and brought the pistol down like a hammer on the thick part of his skull, dropping him without killing him.

Before her limbs could even recoil, another man came at her with a right cross. She slapped it aside, deflecting it past her face, and she grabbed his wrist, holding it still as she torqued her entire upper body into driving the gun into his face. He fell back and fell over, his nose broken.

She saw a flash from the side, and she instinctively leaned away from it, her arm down straight over her hip, and unleash a side kick at the attacker's leg, scoring a hit on the kneecap.

She fell back alongside Nadia.

"I thought you spent your time in the office," Nadia asked her, holding the baseball bat still.

"Tony teaches Krav Maga. He could kick a gunman's ass with both hands bound behind him."

**3:04:58/3:04:59/3:05:00**

Getting on to the Presidential retreat was difficult even if you had the proper clearance; circumventing the legions of doctors, military and security guards made the trip to the moon seem like a cakewalk. Vaughn considered himself very fortunate to finally get to the section where the Scarlet Circle assassin was being held.

"Agent Vaughn, you're from the CTU detail?" Vaughn nodded. "Mike Novick, I'm afraid that there have been some dire complications that we need to discuss. Come this way."

"How's Premier En Lai doing?" Vaughn asked as he followed the older man.

"About half an hour ago, he started showing signs of infection," Novick said grimly. "We've got him in isolation now, but we're getting a lot of pressure from the Chinese government to have the premier released into the custody of their envoy."

"They understand the possibility of a health risk to the general public if that happens?"

"As far as their government is concerned, En Lai's already dead," Novick told him bluntly. "Right now, the only thing that matters is retribution. His would-be successors have made it perfectly clear that unless the guilty party is apprehended and delivered into Chinese custody by the end of the day, they will have no choice to consider this a violation of international law, and to declare war on the United States."

"So why haven't you handed Sheng Leung over to the Chinese?" Vaughn asked.

"The President knows that Leung is just the tip of the iceberg, and that millions of American lives may be in danger unless we stop this virus." Novick paused. "But he also knows that the virus was created by an American defense program. That's more than enough ammunition for the Chinese government to take up arms against us if they find out." He paused. "That's actually the real reason I asked to see you before you interrogated Leung."

"What haven't you told me?" he demanded.

"I asked Secret Service to go over all security footage for the last six hours to locate Sheng Leung. While they were doing so, they found this." Mike walked over to a television, and turned it on. "This footage is from a little more than two and a half hours ago from the parking lot."

A man in a blue suit and a cap was standing by a bright silver limousine. He removed something from the hood of the car, and put it next to the side-view mirror. He then walked out of the frame. "We fast forward a minute, and…" An Asian man-- Leung, based on the photos Vaughn had seen-- walked by the limousine and took something from the mirror, and put in his pocket.

"I'm guessing that was how Leung managed to get hold of the virus," Vaughn said.

"It's worse than that." Mike told him. "The vehicle he went by is Allan Milliken's, and the man who probably arranged the hand-off was Steven Cairns. He's been Allan's personal driver for ten years."

Suddenly, Vaughn was beginning to feel really out of his depth. "Have you interrogated Cairns yet?" he asked, with a sinking feeling beginning to fill him.

"Cairns says he will not give any explanation until he has been granted total immunity from prosecution. The President's in a meeting with the Attorney General right now trying to figure out his options."

"What options?" Vaughn argued. "If Cairns only implicates Leung, the Chinese are still going to demand that we hand him over to _their_ justice system for punishment. If he implicates Milliken, and I don't see how he can't given the evidence, we will have no choice to implicate the American government. In either case, the Chinese will have more than enough justification to repudiate today's treaty."

"Agent Vaughn."

For the first time Vaughn looked at Novick, and could tell that underneath the veneer of detachment, the President's chief of staff was as scared as he was beginning to feel.. "The President knows that we are on the verge of World War III," he said slowly, "and right now, the only way that we can prevent this is to locate all the people behind what is happening today, and prove, not only to China, but to the international community that they, not their governments, are responsible for today's tragedies. We can then bring enough pressure so that we can all step away from the precipice."

"And what exactly do you want me to do to help stop us?"

"We need to use all of our resources to extract whatever information Cairns and Leung have related to today's threat, so that we can locate Li Chen Wang, Julian Sark, and whoever else is pulling the strings behind what's happening today."

"Sir," Vaughn said honestly, "what you're asking for may well be impossible."

"The President is aware of that," Novick admitted. "He also knows that the people at APO, as well as those at CTU, have managed to do the impossible. You've saved the world before, and we need you to do it now."

Vaughn knew this was true. He also knew that it wasn't his talents Novick was asking for. "In that case, sir," he told him, "I need to make a phone call right now."

**3:09:04/3:09:05/3:09:06**

"You intending to tell me why we're making such a major effort to follow this lead?" Jack asked Sydney as they pulled to a stop in front of Alicia Ro's off-campus housing.

"Based on what his roommate told us about the phone call Howard Cason received, I'm guessing that Howard Cason was given some kind of hypnotic suggestion," Sydney told him.

"And this Alicia Ro was his controller, I get that," Jack said. "What I don't follow is why we're looking for her."

"The majority of successful brainwashing takes a period of months in order to trigger those kinds of responses." Sydney paused. "Ro was able to do it in a matter of weeks, probably faster. There aren't a lot of people in this field who are that advanced that they can work on an accelerated timetable."

"So if this woman could be very familiar with someone a lot higher-up in the food chain," Jack extrapolated.

He was about to go on when his phone rang. "Bauer."

"Jack, please tell me you're with Sydney right now," Vaughn said coolly.

"She's in the car, next to me," Jack assured Vaughn, as he put her on speaker.

"Syd, where the hell are you? I've been trying to call you for the past five minutes."

Sydney looked a little abashed. "Sorry, my cell got totaled in the car crash," she said furtively.

There was a pause. "You were in a car accident?" Vaughn said. "Was it serious?"

"People died in it," Sydney replied grimly.

"And you're still in the field," Vaughn reasoned. He cleared his throat and said, "You know, I remember you went to CTU to stay _out _of the field. The exact reason for getting a desk job escapes me—oh, yes, _our daughter_?"

Sydney glanced at Bauer and flushed with embarrassment. "You're not going to make a thing of this now, are you, Vaughn?"

"Yes, I think I will. Later. Unfortunately, now I don't have the time," Vaughn went back to business. "I just finished a talk with Mike Novick. "

Jack almost groaned with relief for the change in subject. If Sydney thought that she was uncomfortable, Bauer wasn't much better. "What's the situation with the Premier?"

"Right now, the Premier's health is the least of our problems. For that matter, the possibility of mass attack on this nation by a genetic virus just got moved back to second place on our agenda."

Both Jack and Sydney knew the foreign situation well enough that they would have been able to gather what was probably going on behind the scenes with their government and that of the Chinese. "How bad?" Jack asked grimly.

"If we don't bring this to a successful resolution within the next few hours, there's a good possibility that keys will be turning in missile bases across the world," Vaughn answered grimly.

Sydney blanched a little at this. "And we're the ones who have been charged with putting the pin back in the grenade. Even though this is China's mess."

"That's the real reason I called," Vaughn said. "My interview with Allan Milliken didn't get me anything, except a lot more questions."

"How hard did you press him?" Jack asked

"Not as hard as I could have," Vaughn admitted. "Especially since I just saw a security tape of Milliken's driver handing the virus off to Sheng Leung while they were both on the retreat."

This was as bad as Vaughn said it was. "Are either of these men in custody?" Jack asked

"They apprehended both of them within the last hour." Vaughn told him. "That's why I called. I need one of you to get over to the Western White House, and help me interrogate them."

"Vaughn, you've been an agent for thirteen years," Sydney said. "You know how to run this."

"I got lucky with Simon Grady earlier," Vaughn admitted. "I know where I'm strong and where I'm not, and the fact is, interrogation and information extraction have never been my greatest strengths. These man need to be worked right, or we're going to lose any chance to control this crisis. Jack...this is your area."

"Vaughn, we're in the middle of following up on a lead," Jack told him.

"Correction. _I _am in the middle of following up a lead." When Jack was about to protest, she added, as she got out of the car: "Your continuing to view me as some kind of fragile flower is not exactly flattering for someone in my position."

Jack knew better than to than to try and argue with a Bristow. They were stubborn enough that not even killing them seemed to work—as Sydney's mother could attest. "All right, but you had better call CTU for some kind of back-up," he replied.

"That's not the kind of brain damage they're worried about, Jack."

"Vaughn, it's still going to take me fifteen minutes to get over to the retreat," Jack said.

"Which puts you ten minutes closer than anyone I can get from CTU," Vaughn countered. "At the very least you can do some kind of work-up en route."

"You're asking a lot," Jack said, as he began to drive out.

"No more than you've asked of any of us."

**3:12:24/3:12:25/3:12:26...**

Nadia stabbed into one attacker's chest with the bat and swung it against someone's else's head—thankfully she didn't have enough windup, only dropping him without crushing his skull.

A Crip had managed to get a hold of Michelle's wrists, and he was grinning as he jerked her around from one side to the other. The man had four inches on her, and a hundred pounds of muscle, and lifted her off the ground.

Not one ounce of that muscle helped him when she stomped both feet into his knees, and driving him to the ground. A smack of the temple with the barrel of her gun dropped him.

A knife jabbed at her, and she twisted her body so she could deflect it with her arm, and she backhanded the guy with her pistol.

"This is bad," Nadia said as she ducked someone's punch, and stabbed up with the bat into his crotch.

"I noticed."

Without warning, one of the larger trucks CTU had brought with them charged the crowd. All of them being LA pedestrians, no one assumed that it would stop for them as it charged.

Most of the front ranks of the crowd scattered. The truck stopped in front of the two women, and the overweight, flabby driver looked out the window and said, "Get in. As many as you can."

Not one agent wasted a moment of time. Michelle and Nadia piled in, along with the rest of them as another truck pulled up as the driver sped away.

Michelle's helmet came off quickly enough as she tried to breathe. She leaned to the cab and said, "I thought we brought all the agents with us into the field."

"You did ma'am, I'm a computer programmer. You left us with the cars...um, I'm Edgar."

She grinned with relief. "Thanks Edgar."

Nadia's cell phone rang. She sighed, took off her helmet, and answered, "Santos."

"Nadia, are you all right?"

"Considering that I've just left the scene of what could be another major race riot, yeah, I'm doing just fine. How are you Sydney?"

**3:17:34/3:17:35/3:17:36/3:17:37**

Bristow blinked at her sister's reply. "I was in a car crash, nearly killed, and I have major concussion. Why, what've you been doing?"

"We traced Tommy Ying to the South Central section of Watts. We finally tracked Ying down. Then he shot one of the residents of the local housing complex."

"Let me guess: Boom."

"Right," Suddenly the background noise got a little lower. "Michelle and I managed to take refuge, and the LAPD has just arrived. But once the gun has been fired, you can't put the bullet back. They may need to call in the National Guard to get this under control, and how they're going to manage that while keeping a possible quarantine is something I don't particularly want to think about."

"And I'm guessing you lost sight of Ying," Sydney reasoned.

"Sort of. He's dead." Nadia paused. "Which means we're going to need to follow any leads you've got. Which I'm guessing is why you called."

"Correct. I'm at USC, following up on what may be our last, best chance to get someone connected to Scarlet Circle."

"Scarlet Circle's recruiting college freshmen now?" Nadia said dubiously.

"Someone sent a freshman in a truck to kill me, and he came damn close to pulling it off."

"So in the past hour, I was nearly killed by an out-of-control mob, and you narrowly avoided death by a college kamikaze," Nadia summarized, partially in jest.. "You think maybe the universe is trying to tell us something about our jobs?"

"Hey, I'm the one with the quiet desk job, remember?" Sydney said.. "I think that the Scarlet Circle agents who sent the truck out to kill me have one of their own staked out around USC. I need some back-up, and you and Michelle are probably the closest field agents available."

"What's the address?" Nadia asked

"36 Dillard Place, roughly a quarter of a mile off the main USC campus," Sydney told her. "The woman we're looking for is called Alicia Ro. I've got Kim doing a background check now."

"All right, that's less then ten minutes away," Nadia said. "We'll be right there. Try not to do anything incredibly dangerous."

"Relax, this time I'm taking the safer route," Sydney assured her sister. "If Alicia Ro really is keeping up her front as a student, she'll be coming home from class any minute now. I'll wait until she comes home, and you arrive then we can snatch her up together."

"And if Alicia Ro really is a Scarlet Circle assassin?"

"Then she may have left the campus already. In which case, we'll go in and search her place for some kind of clue."

Nadia had been listening to this with a hint of doubt. "And what happens if she is an assassin, comes to her house to destroy it, and encounters you?" she asked.

"We'll burn that bridge when we come to it."

"Do that a lot on days like today," Nadia reminded her.

"In that case, I suggest that you and Michelle get here fast," Sydney said with a trace of a smile.

**3:24:50/3:24:51/3:24:52**

Nadia knew, joking aside, Sydney was only going to have so much time before she had to make some kind of move. She was just about to hang up, when her phone beeped. "Hold on, someone's on the other line," She pressed a button. "Santos."

"Nadia, finally got through," Marshall's voice sounded more jazzed than usual. "You and Agent Dessler make it out okay? Last I heard Watts was turning into another… Watts, I guess."

"Yeah, it's looking like another win in Scarlet Circle's column," Nadia admitted. "Have you got something that can help us turn the tide?"

"Well, um, not exactly with the whole race riot, I mean, I'm probably the whitest guy in America when it comes to these sorts of things, and tech support didn't exactly carry the day there."

"Actually, we were saved by tech support. A man named Edgar?"

"Oh? Really? Cool, I guess...though not cool that you needed saving of course, but, I—oh, right," Marshall paused, gathering himself. "But I might have found something that finally get us to locating another piece to this whole plot."

"Hang on, Syd's on the other line. I'm patching her through now. " Nadia did so. "Syd, Marshall thinks he may have something."

"What have you got?"

"Well, it took me two hours, but I finally managed to decrypt the hard drive that we found at Wang's Glendale address," Marshall said proudly "Turns out that the code there was very similar to the data we got off Hobson Laboratories, when you encountered Wang's associates. I won't bore you with details, but the long and short of it, I managed to decode what was on the files."

"All right. Start with Hobson Laboratories," Sydney asked. "What was so important that his followers spent a huge amount of time and energy trying to purge from the data stream?"

"Took me a little while to figure it out, but it seems to be a series of genetic equations," Marshall said. "Now I think eighty percent of the geneticists in this world wouldn't be able to figure out its importance, but I finally recognized that is has with alteration of a person's genetic makeup."

"You mean like Project Helix?" Nadia asked.

"No," Marshall paused for dramatic effect. "This _is_ Project Helix."

"But those plans were destroyed. I pushed the button on the detonator that was used," Sydney argued.

"When Sark was in custody five years ago," Marshall said, "he eventually revealed that he had made a major effort to help Allison Dorian return to her own features." Marshall paused because he knew, even after all this time, how much Dorian's murder of Francie hurt Sydney. "Now we already know Hobson Laboratories was an Alliance property, so it makes sense that Sark would try and utilize it, and when it failed, they still had access to the technology."

This did explain a few things, but there was a larger question. "So how did Scarlet Circle use Project Helix today?" Sydney asked

Marshall deflated. "I haven't yet figured out who they cloned, However," he continued, "one of the code names they used in regard to this genetic map, was also found on the hard drive that Nadia found in Li Chen Wang's apartment."

"What was the reference?" Sydney asked

"The code name used was Moses." Marshall said, "and according to the reference, 'Moses' was somebody with the Inner Circle of the President."

Now Nadia was alarmed. "Allen Milliken," she said.

Michelle finally reacted. "Excuse me? It's one thing to say that Milliken is possibly guilty of treason, we've already connected the dots back that far to him. But the idea that he could be some kind of genetic duplicate--"

"Would explain how Scarlet Circle would have access to this virus in the first place." Nadia said. "Add to that, he's been hospitalized a fair amount over the past few years for supposed heart trouble, and Sark would have plenty of opportunities to make the switch."

"It's a good theory, Nadia, but we don't have any proof," Sydney pointed out. "However, I do think that Jack needs to be informed about it, before he interrogates Milliken's driver."

Suddenly, there was some noise in the background of Sydney's call. "Nadia, how far out are you?"

"Less than three minutes," Nadia told her.

"Well, then I advise you to the pedal to the mettle," Sydney told her sister. "Because Alicia Ro just showed up, and now I've got a few questions I need to ask her."

"Sydney--" But she had terminated the call.

Nadia swallowed, and punched the gas.

**3:32:09/3:32:10/3:32:11/3:32:12**

Now that the time had come to deal with Alicia Ro, Sydney decided to play as close to straight as possible, at least at first.

Syd approached the Asian teenager with blond streaks in her dark hair. Bristow moved down the suburban street with the confident strides of a government agent. "Excuse me, are you Alicia Ro?" she asked the.

"Yes, and you are?" Ro countered calmly.

"My name is Sydney Bristow, and I work for CTU. I need to ask you a few questions about Howard Cason. I understand that he's your boyfriend."

"I don't understand. Is Howard in some kind of trouble?" She sounded just curious. But Sydney could detect something else in her tone.

"Not anymore. But there are some questions that need to be answered."

"What kind of questions?"

Syd scanned the calm suburban homes. "Miss Ro, I'd prefer that we could talk out of the sight of your neighbors."

Again Ro's face remained perfectly neutral. "All right." She went to the door of her apartment, and unlocked it. "Come right in."

If there was some kind of trap, this was where Ro would spring it. Sydney cautiously entered the apartment. Out of the corner of her eye, she detected Ro moving behind her. "Did you know about Mr. Ca--"

Before she could finish the sentence, Ro sprung at her with what looked like a Halo knife. Sydney sidestepped and slapped the knife out her hand. Before she could follow up, Ro leapt and rolled to the side. She came to her feet, and sprang back at Sydney, leading with a right cross. Bristow leaned back and to the side, letting the punch fly past her. She burst in, towards Ro, and fired a palm into her forehead, sending her off balance. Syd spun, grabbed the outstretched arm, and then twisted her entire body around, taking the arm with her, and pulling straight down. The leverage hold threw Ro down to the ground.

Normally Sydney could have easily matched fighting styles with this student-warrior until her actions carried the day. But she was still feeling a little dizzy from her car crash and hour ago, so she simply decided to draw her weapon on her.

"If you value your life, I suggest you stop trying to end mine," Sydney said icily.

"Death does not frighten me, Agent Bristow." There was now a more pronounced accent to Ro's English.

"You're young yet," Sydney said in a relatively irony-free tone. "Now get up, turn around, and face the wall."

Reluctantly Ro did so

Sydney took out her cuffs. "CTU has a lot of questions to ask you--"

Ro's reaction time was fast. As Sydney reached for her cuffs, Ro whirled around to the outside of Sydney and swept her arm down, and wrapping it around her gun arm, locking the arm in place—with the gun pointing past Ro's body.

Syd dropped her gun a moment before Ro's left fist came up and struck her with a roundhouse punch, quickly followed up with an elbow strike. However, Ro was using a textbook maneuver, and the elbow was a passing strike as Ro reached for Sydney's gun—which she had already dropped.

_And this is why I beat them into submission first_, Sydney thought.

Immediately after the elbow strike, Bristow swung the rest of her body, using the shoulder of the trapped arm as a hinge, and kicked...up...straight up. Her left leg came almost parallel with her torso and cracked into Ro's nose, snapping her head back and jarring her grip on Sydney's arm. She recocked her leg, then swept her left arm foreward, clotheslining Ro in the throat-- enough to make her gag, but not enough to crush her windpipe.

Ro struggled in fits and thrashes. She tried a reverse elbow into Bristow's face, but only ran into Sydney's left shoulder. Bristow dropped her arm over Ro's, trapping it against her chest, and then dropped backwards. Ro released her arm in an attempt to escape, but Sydney rolled sideways, turning her motion into an armdrag, bringing her to the floor.

Syd rolled to her feet, and Ro did the same. Bristow grabbed the nearest weapon—in this case, an oversized decorative plate the diameter of a beachball on the coffee table. Ro grabbed the nearest weapon as well—Sydney's gun.

Bristow dropped to one knee, putting herself below the pistol's line of fire, and swung the oversized plate down and across her body, sending it to the other side of the room. Ro growled and leapt for her, but Bristow jabbed her with the edge of the plate, ramming the thing into her stomach. She hit the plate with the full force of her own body, driving ninety pounds of pressure into a two-inch edge.

Ro doubled over, and Syd pulled back, and stood, raised the plate high again, and broke it over Ro's head, dropping the college student to the ground.

_Suckered by a college student, _Sydney thought. _Nadia'll never let me live this down._

"Now, we'll do this again..." Bristow panted. "Puts your hands behind your head."

"I always miss the fun stuff."

Sydney glanced over to the doorway, Nadia standing there, her gun at the ready. "You can have the next one.."

"You okay, Syd?"

"Never better," Sydney as she successfully manacled Ro's hands. "Just goes to prove that the next generation has nothing on me."

"I wouldn't bet on it, bitch," Ro snarled.

Sydney smashed Ro in the jaw. "From now on, you don't talk until I say so, _get it?" _She looked up at her. "I assume you came here in a CTU vehicle?" Nadia nodded. "Call Michelle. Get her to bring one of the kits."

"Granted this woman's hell on wheels, but does that mean she'll know anything about Wang or Sark?"

"Actually," Sydney said coldly, "I think she knows a lot of secrets, and it shouldn't take much prodding to get them out of her."

**3:39:41/3:39:42/3:39:43**

Vaughn had figured Milliken's driver would be easier for him to crack, and would probably provide a different angle on catching up with the American angle on the virus. Which left Sheng Leung for Jack.

"Agent Bauer," Agent Pierce said as he walked up to the section of the retreat where they were holding the Scarlet Circle operative. "They told us you were coming."

"I wish we could meet under better circumstances," Jack said. "Has Leung been prepped?"

"We've been working on him consistently for the past hour," Pierce told him. "Leung has a very high pain threshold. I don't know what methods you were planning on using, but you may have to take another approach."

"Has Agent Vaughn managed to get anything out of Cairns yet?" Jack asked.

"Not so far. The President has agreed to withhold offering any deals until Agent Vaughn finished with him," Pierce paused. "He also wanted you to know that the Chinese government has been demanding custody of Leung for the past thirty minutes."

"Is he going to give in?"

"I'm not party to those kinds of decisions, Jack."

Jack knew better than to pry. "All right. Call me the second there's any new information. And make sure no one disturbs us."

With that he walked into the room Leung was being kept in. He was cuffed in a chair with his hands over his head.

"I know you speak English, so don't bother playing ignorant with me," he said as he walked over to him.

"I think we are well past the point of facades, sir," Leung said angrily.

"The Premier has begun to show symptoms," Jack said almost casually. "Which means in a matter of hours he will be dead."

"En Lai was a traitor to over a billion Chinese," Leung snapped back. "My one regret is that they made me use this virus. It would have been so much simpler for me to have pulled the trigger myself."

"Would have been a lot simpler for us, too." By now Jack was right next to Leung. "Then we would simply hand you over to your government, and in a matter of days, you'd be tried, convicted and executed."

"I am more than willing to serve as a martyr for my people. Death has no hold over me."

"You're not going to die, Sheng," Jack told him. "Not with the tar baby you've gotten yourself stuck to."

"What's that supposed to means?"

"You committed this crime on American soil, which means we have as much of a right to determining your fate as the Chinese do." Jack paused. "No doubt there will be all kinds of maneuvering to decide who gets the pleasure of disposing of you, but we've arranged a special kind of punishment while you are in the wings. Let's say your government gets possession first. No doubt they'll send you to Siberia or Beijing or any of the other prison camps they borrowed. A few weeks will seem like years, so you'll be relieved when we take possession. You'll think that Guantanamo will seem like a cakewalk compared to the gulag, but I'll tell you, descriptions of what we do there have been greatly _under-_reported. After a few months, your government will regain possession of you, and the cycle will begin again."

Now Jack leaned over Leung. "The thing about government, Sheng, is that we are a bureaucracy. And given the mess you've instigated, this process could drag on for decades. Are you prepared for that, Sheng? Decades of beatings and whippings. Years of freezing cold or scalding heat. Malnutrition, thirst, sleep deprivation. By the end of the first month, you'll be trying to take your own life, except another thing that both sides will have in common is that you will be far too important a prisoner for either of us to let die. So you'll just go insane. That won't end your agony, and it probably won't make it any more bearable. It'll just make it impossible for you to remember what a hero you've been today."

Leung was starting to sweat a little now. "Your countries will be at war soon," he said. "They won't have time to keep fighting over me."

"The bureaucracy is the last thing to be destroyed in a war," Jack reminded him. "But maybe you're right, and one government gets to keep you. You'll be the one who started this war. That would make you to bad for a lethal injection. If you're lucky, they'll just arranged to have you drawn and quartered." Jack paused. "And that's if _our_ side gets possession. I can't imagine what your own people would do to the man who murdered their leader."

"You are too weak for that," Leung spat. "I have seen this 'GITMO.' I have seen photos. Prisoners in your Fort Leavenworth should swear fidelity to Al Qaeda just to be _transferred_ to Cuba. You are weak, you are pathetic, and that is why we will win." He looked at the room around him. "You think that this will break me? You think that this hurts? You think that anything your people are _willing _to do will even _begin to_ undermine my victory? No," he sneered. "You cannot do that."

Jack leaned forward, and grabbed the arms of Leung's chair, meeting his gaze. He spoke evenly, low and measured, his voice a deep whisper. "If you really think that's true, look into my eyes, Leung, and tell me that we wouldn't make an exception _just _for you."

The Scarlet Circle terrorist stared long and hard into the eyes of Jack Bauer. And for the first time in a long, hard life in China, in Scarlet Circle, as a deep cover agent, Sheng Leung felt stark, abject terror. His faced paled, and he swallowed. "If this is case, there is no reason for us to be having this conversation."

"You have one way out, so listen carefully," Jack paused. "You're going to tell us everything you know about Scarlet Circle, Li Chen Wang, and the genetic virus that you used on the Premier, as well as any American contacts your group has. In exchange, I will arrange with our government to grant you asylum. You'll still go to prison, probably for the rest of your life. But you will be allowed relative safety, and the Chinese will never have access to you."

Leung considered this. "How do I know that you're simply not telling me what I want to hear?"

"You don't," Jack said simply. "But right now, you don't have a choice, because when I walk out that door, they're going to start working you over again. And when they're finished, you'll still go to prison. Only there are no guarantees there that you'll survive the day."

Jack walked to the door. "Five minutes, Leung," he said. "You can use it to tell me what I want to know. Or you can start getting used to a lot more of rooms like this one...and they will be manned by people much scarier than I am."

**3:50:03/3:50:04/3:50:05/3:50:06**

"Where are we with Ro?" Jack Bristow asked Nadia.

"Sydney's working her over," Nadia replied. "But this Ro woman has all the earmarks of being a true believer. Those can be the toughest ones to crack. Has Marshall gotten anything from the background check that we can use?"

"He didn't have to." For one of the first times since she had begun working with him, Sydney's father seemed a little uneasy. "Alicia Ro's the name that she used when she was in USC. Her real name is Chang Xian, and she's been working as a mercenary for various groups in the Far East for the past five years."

"She can't be more than twenty," Nadia said. "How the hell did she get the kind of training that allowed her to nearly get the jump on Sydney?"

"Because Sydney and she followed the same learning primer." Mr. Bristow hesitated. "You're familiar with Project Christmas?"

"I assume that's a rhetorical question." Even now, more than five years after she had learned about it, this was still a sore subject between Sydney and her father.

"But how would a Chinese national know about an American CIA program?"

"Not all of the people who were trained by Project Christmas were American born, and not all of them went into intelligence work."

"What I'm more curious about is how _you _knew the name," Nadia said pointedly.

For a moment it seemed like a hint of pain was in Mr. Bristow's voice. "Not of all the people who went into the program came out as well as your sister." His tone became more business-like. "But the how is less important than the end result. The people who went through this kind of training traditionally have a high resistance to interrogation. Breaking her will be difficult, even for Sydney."

"Assuming that's the case, what other options does that leave us with?" Nadia demanded. "Have you gotten anything off the numbers on her cell? Anything there that we can use?"

"Several things," Mr. Bristow told her. We've backtracked the calls that's she made over the past hour. Aside from the one that she made to Howard Cason's cell phone, she also has listings to several of the numbers that we'd traced earlier to Scarlet Circle. But the last call she made was a little more than forty minutes to a Santa Barbara area code."

"Does Marshall have any idea who?"

"Whoever it was used a scrambler to make it difficult for us to backtrack, and the phone's registered under a false name. We've been trying to raise the caller for the past five minutes using a rigged identity, but whoever it isn't biting."

Nadia thought for a moment. "What if we used a legitimate one?"

"What are you thinking?" Mr. Bristow said.

"That if we're not going to get anywhere breaking Xian normally, maybe we can convince her we don't need her anymore." Nadia said carefully. "Let's see how far she's willing to take this true believer act."

**3:55:11/3:55:12/3:55:13**

The major difference between Sydney's and Jack's methods of interrogation, Nadia was coming to realize as she walked back into the apartment, was that her sister somehow managed to do this without leaving external trauma. Nadia had often meant to ask how Syd managed to pull that off, but there never seemed to be a good time to ask.

Now, as Sydney stepped away from Nadia, she hoped that her sister's time out of the field, wouldn't stop her from catching the little act that she was about to perform.

"I've just had a conversation with your father," Nadia began.

"What did he have to say?"

Nadia reached for her service weapon. "That we can no longer afford to waste time on non-essentials."

Sydney gave no outward appearance of surprise. "Did you tell him that this may be our only chance of getting to Scarlet Circle?" she asked neutrally.

"We have her cell phone, we have her address book," Nadia said nonchalantly. "We can get more out of them quicker than we can wasting our time with this amateur."

Sydney turned around. "Has CTU signed off on the kill?" she asked emphasizing the last two words.

"Almeida's given us the green light." Nadia walked over to Ro, who was concentrating very hard on maintaining her calm exterior. "So what do you say, Chang? Any last words before your brains exit the back of your head?"

"You know my name," Ro managed to say.

"Another reason we consider further questioning of waste of time," Nadia now had the gun right between her eyes. "We Even you know you're a low man on the totem pole. We're after much bigger fish, and a flunky who believes she playing spy isn't worth our time."

Ro—or Chang, as Nadia supposed they should be calling her-- was starting to perspire rather heavily. "But I have information for you," she said.

"What could you possibly tell us that would be worthwhile?" Sydney said. "Fire on three. One-- two--"

Nadia had actually starting to squeeze the trigger before Chang spoke-- "Scarlet Circle didn't hire me!" she shouted.

"So?" Sydney asked.

"I was hired by an American contact!" Chang finally said. "The people who hired me are the one's responsible for designing the virus!"

Nadia took her finger off the trigger but did not lower the gun. "We already know the people behind it!"

"But you don't know where to find them! I do!" Chang sounded pretty frantic now. "I was scheduled to meet with them in an hour to pick up something that was vital to today's attack!"

"Really?" Sydney said honestly. "Then answer me this: How did a low-level hoodlum like you rub shoulders with a guy like Allan Milliken?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Xian demanded.

"Don't be fucking coy," Nadia said.

"I'm not. _Allan _Milliken has nothing to do with the virus."

"Things are starting to disintegrate," Wang said over the phone.

"From what I understand, the first two operations have been successes."

"Maybe, but I'm losing manpower right and left. I think we need to accelerate the timetable. Do you have what we need?"

Julia Milliken looked at the box in her car. "Yes," she said into her cell.

"My man will be at the rendezvous point in less than hour for the handoff."

"I'll be ready."

**3:59:57/3:59:58/3:59:59/4:00:00**


	11. 4:00 PM TO 5:00 PM

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

**The Following Takes Place Between 4:00 P.M. and 5:00 P.M.**

Jack Bauer walked down the hallway of the Presidential retreat the same way he walked down the hallways of CTU—long, brisk strides that informed people that he had someplace to go and that getting in his way would only result in being run over. "It's pretty clear that Leung only mission for Scarlet Circle was to get close enough to the Premier in order to dose him with the virus," Jack said into his cell phone. "Most of the names he's given me we already had in the file. He claims to have no idea where Wang is, and that he only met with Sark once, never while he was in the U.S."

"Do you believe him?" Tony asked, back at CTU.

'It's hard to tell," Jack said. "I think that's he holding out on us about something."

"Maybe he knows that we're not going to really give him a pass, and is trying to find a way to hold on to some bargaining strength," Tony pointed out. "Trying to find a way to keep from landing in the hands of his own government."

A beep on the cell signaled that someone was on the other line. "Hold on," Jack said. "Bauer."

"Jack, it's Nadia. We've got a major problem."

"I take it that you and Sydney tracked down Alicia Ro," Jack surmised.

"Her name isn't Ro, and she's currently the least of our problems." Nadia paused. "Can you contact Tony?"

"He's on the other line. I'll patch him through." Jack pushed the appropriate buttons. "Tony, I'm on the line with Nadia. I think there's been some kind of break."

"I don't know if that's the right word," Nadia told them. "Alicia Ro 's real name is Chang Xian. She's a mercenary hired by the people behind the development of the virus, and she claims her job was more extensive than just setting up an automobile crash to take out one of our agents. Part of her job was to help set up a paper trail, linking the virus to various companies run by Allan Milliken," Nadia stopped.

"Wait a minute," Jack said. "I've got videotape showing Milliken's driver giving a vial of the virus to Sheng Leung at the retreat. How is it that Milliken's not involved?"

"It's not _Allan_ Milliken who did it," Nadia said. "According to Xian, the major force behind the virus manufacture was Julia Milliken"

There was a pause as both of the senior agents processed this. "Bullshit." Tony finally said. "Where would a trophy wife like Julia Milliken find the time to be a guiding force behind a conspiracy of this magnitude? How would she even hear of someone like Li Chen Wang?"

"Because she's not really Julia Milliken," Nadia told him. "Marshall finally managed to decode the data Jack and Sydney got out of Hobson Laboratories a few hours back. The data stream that they tried to delete was connected to Project Helix. Someone used that laboratory to change someone within the President's circle. Someone with the code name 'Moses'."

"And Moses was Julia Milliken's maiden name," Jack realized. He ground his teeth and spat out, "Damnit!

"Precisely." Nadia said grimly.

"Jesus Christ," Tony muttered. "Now I have to tell all my teams that they've been chasing the wrong trail for the past hour and a half. Has anyone been able to reach this fake Julia?"

"That's the next thing." Nadia said. "Xian claimed that she had a meeting scheduled with this Julia Milliken within the next hour, and that she would guarantee us a link with this woman in exchange for immunity from prosecution."

"Maybe there's another way to get to her without Xian's help," Jack said thoughtfully.

"I'm open to suggestions," Nadia said.

"Now that we have conclusive proof that a Milliken was involved in the production of the virus, we don't have to make any deals with Stephen Cairns," Jack told them as he began to walk to another section of the retreat. "I think it's time I gave Milliken's driver the full attention that he deserves."

**4:05:15/4:05:16/4:05:17**

Vaughn was even less satisfied with the interrogation of his prisoner than Jack had been with his. He had pushing Cairns pretty hard, even though he hadn't Jack's skills at this sort of thing. But Cairns was proving surprisingly resistant to a pretty hard questioning, particularly considering that Vaughn held most of the cards.

Suddenly Jack was in the room. "Steven Cairns, you're under arrest for perjury."

Cairns appeared a little vexed. "But I haven't lied to you about anything!"

"You've been lying to us since we began this interview," Jack said, as he got up in Cairns face. "Allan Milliken never instructed you to bring the virus on to the property. You got your orders from Milliken's wife. This entire incident wasn't just to get the virus to Sheng Leung, you were supposed to implicate your boss as well. How much did Julia give you to make this trip?"

Cairns now seemed positively shocked at what was going on. "How the fuck did you know that?" he sputtered

"Doesn't matter," Vaughn told him.. "You're involved in the murder of the Chinese Premier, which means you could be prosecuted by both their government and ours. If you're lucky, you'll only be thrown in an American prison for treason. If you're unlucky, which is more likely, China takes possession of you, and their system of justice is far less...pleasant than ours."

"This is bullshit!" Cairns yelled. "All Julia told me to do was to make sure somebody here got a hold of the package she gave me to deliver, and to make sure that to let it seem that my boss gave it to me.. She never said that anybody was going to die!"

"Your only chance is to give us everything you know about Julia Milliken right now, starting with where we can find her." Jack told him. "Otherwise, we have no problem throwing you to the Chinese and let them turn you inside out...slowly."

Cairns looked like he was going to piss himself with fear. "The lying bitch promised me ten million dollars for making this handoff," he stammered out. "After I made the drop, and Mr. Milliken was back at home, I was supposed to go to Vegas, out of the line of fire."

"Were you supposed to have any further contact with her?" Vaughn demanded.

"She said once I dropped the boss at home, she would give me a call from a specific place. If I missed the meeting-- which as of two hours ago, I have- -- I was supposed to be on the next plane out of town, and wait for her instructions."

"This was your only connect with Julia in the past few weeks?" Jack pressed.

"No. For the past several months, she's had me driving her to all kinds of locations late at night, and paying me double not to tell the boss. Lawyers, doctors, a couple of times she had me drive her to meet with Congressmen." Cairns sighed. "I've known this woman for seven years, and I gotta tell you, the past year or so, it's like she's been a whole different person."

"Turns out you were more right than you know." Vaughn mumbled. "Jack, a moment."

The two walked outside the room. "We're getting somewhere, at least," Jack told him.

"True," Vaughn countered. "But maybe we can find another way to get the information we need."

Jack whirled on him, and Vaughn had to restrain himself from raising a block. "I'm not making any deals."

"No need. We've access to two of the people who supposedly knew her best."

Jack got it, too. "Her husband and her lover...Wayne Palmer tipped us to the Milliken's in the first place. I doubt he'd lie to us about this now."

"He wouldn't lie," Vaughn agreed. "But he might have allowed himself to be misled. Maybe that's why the timing of this affair wasn't a coincidence."

**4:10:55/4:10:56/4:10:57/4:10:58**

Tony walked towards the conference room where he was about to connect Sydney with Wayne Palmer. "You sure you want to handle this?" he said into his cell

Sydney removed her hand from her temple. "Given my own problems, I'm probably the best qualified to talk him through his."

"You sure?"

Sydney raised a brow, and almost smiled as she stepped outside of Ro's home. "I was conned into SD6, my mother was an assassin, my father turned out to be a double agent, my SD-6 boss had a creepy thing for me _as _my boss at SD6, then as my enemy, then as my boss at APO, and then, again, as my enemy. This is of course, after discovering that my best friend had been killed and replaced but a double, whom I had to kill twice...oh, and my husband turned out to be lying to me about who he was for years, and only got around to telling me about a day before I found out I was pregnant. You want to tell me if I could be _more _sure?"

Tony smiled. "Gotcha." He stepped into the conference room, where the Congressman had been making some phone calls.

"...I'll get back to you," Wayne Palmer turned off his cell, and faced the CTU director. "I've just had a phone call with Mike Novick. He told me the horror that played out in Watts forty years ago is happening again."

Tony nodded. It had been the subject of a long conversation with a very pissed-off Alberta Green less than an hour ago. And talking with Green was the CTU equivalent of talking to the PC police. "I realize how bad the situation is, sir," he began, "but if we hadn't set up the quarantine--"

"Thousands of people might have died," the congressman finished. "I realize you were faced with an impossible choice. My brother understands it, and he's made it clear than he intends to give CTU full support for your decisions."

"That's very generous," Tony hesitated, "but it's not the reason that I'm here. One of our agents has uncovered information vital in stopping any further violence from breaking out, and she believes you may be the only one who can help us."

Tony turned on the speaker. "Agent Bristow, you're on the line with me and Congressman Palmer."

"I'll get right to the point," Sydney told him. 'The information that you gave us on Allan Milliken's involvement in the development of the virus was only partially correct."

Wayne blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"Sir, this will come as a considerable shock, but I can tell you with relative certainty that Julia Milliken helped the Defense Department develop the virus."

Sydney let this sink in, knowing what was going to come next.

"That's-- that's-- How can you be sure of this?" Wayne finally managed

"At this point, we have confirmation from two independent sources," Sydney told him patiently. "One of them is Steven Cairns, Allan Milliken's driver."

Wayne was positively stunned by what he'd heard. Unfortunately, things weren't going to get any easier for him to handle. "Why would she do something like this?" he asked, dazed.

"I'm afraid that things are worse than that," Now came the harder part. "Sir, how long has your personal relationship with Julia been going on?"

Wayne, still dazed, just said, "A little more than a year."

"Which of you initiated the affair?"

The Congressman blinked, shook his head to clear it, and nearly barked, "What does this have to with anything?

"I'm sorry to be so blunt, sir, but I have every reason to believe that this affair was engineered by Julia Milliken to gain information about the government and your brother's administration."

"You're saying that Julia was some kind of spy?"

"I'm saying that she hasn't been the Julia you've known for quite some time." Sydney paused. "Sir, when I was still a field agent with the CIA, I encountered a project known as Helix, a process to fundamentally alter a person's DNA, changing his or her physical appearance." Sydney paused. "We thought that we had destroyed all the research of Helix, but during the affair of Sayed Ali, we found out that terrorists have access to it."

"So what you're telling me is that the real Julia--" Wayne told her.

"Is dead," Sydney said bluntly.

"And there's this exact copy that's been in her place for maybe years."

"Congressman, I understand exactly what you're going through right now, the kind of betrayal and shock that you're feeling," Sydney said. "You've got a little longer to get used to the idea than I did, but you're going to have to deal with it just as fast."

"What are you asking?" Wayne Palmer said.

"This woman-- whoever has been pretending to be Julia Milliken-- is our best chance of getting to this virus before any more people die." Sydney was a little unsure about the next part, but decided to press anyway. "Now we can make some back-room deal, and have people who are responsible for what's already happened walk away from this, or we can get help from some other source." She paused, deliberately.

Wayne was not a Palmer for nothing. "You want me to contact this-- woman?" he paused deliberately.

"Sir, whoever this woman is, she's obviously been planning this for some time. We find her, I think the chances are very good that we'll get Li Chen Wang or Julian Sark," Sydney told the Congressman. "Now nothing this woman has done has been by chance, so if she told you about this virus, it's obvious that she has some secondary agenda, and it probably relates either to you or to your brother's administration."

"You don't need to give me the hard sell, Agent Bristow," Wayne Palmer sounded more in control of himself now. "These terrorists need to be stopped, and I'm one of the few chances we have of doing it. What do you want me to do?"

"One of the techs at CTU is going to modify your phone so that we can apply a trace to it." Tony told them. "If we're lucky that should be enough for us to find this person."

Sydney didn't add that whoever this woman was, she had obviously put a lot of forethought in to her movements, and that she probably wouldn't allow herself to be trapped that easily. Part of it was probably that he wanted to assuage Wayne Palmer that this would be simple.

The other part was to get him ready for more in case it wasn't.

**4:17:34/4:17:35/4:17:36/4:17:37**

"Kim!"

Kim Bauer whirled around to see Marshall approaching in his hyperactive matter. Only she knew her boss well enough to tell that his hyperactivity wasn't just nervousness. Something was scaring him. Hell, something had rammed the fear of God into him.

"What is it, Marshall?" Kim said in her most soothing voice.

"I need you to come over to my section for a minute." Marshall was trying to calm down, but was failing miserably. "I need another set of eyes."

"For what?"

"To make sure that I'm seeing what I think I'm seeing."

Kim walked over to Marshall's section of APO, and at the monitor where he had been, for the last three hours trying to salvage, then decrypt the files from Hobson Laboratories..

"I thought we'd already covered this," Kim said. "We know that Julia Milliken is being impersonated"

"Yeah, we just didn't know by who," Marshall went to his keyboard, and entered a series of commands. "I realize that this is a little above your pay grade, but I'm pretty sure you're smart enough that you can do the necessary math."

"What are you talking abo…" Kim trailed off, as the long lines of figures on the screen clarified to reveal one very clear conclusion. "Oh darn."

"Please tell me that I've made a miscalculation," Marshall still sound frantic.

Kim shook her head. "No, Marshall, as always, your math has been spot on."

"So we're saying…"

"You contact Sydney, I'll get in touch with my dad."

Nadia sat on the porch with Sydney. "Considering the deal's CTU make, you really think that Ro isn't worth it?"

Sydney shook her head. "Xian is too low on the totem pole, the same with Stephen Cairns." Sydney looked around. "We need big bait to draw this woman out of hiding, and Wayne Palmer is the only kind she'd surface for."

"I know, Sydney, that doesn't change the fact we're playing tag with the President's brother."

Before Sydney could respond to this, her cell rang. "Bristow.".

"Sydney, Marshall. Speaker...speaker _phone_,_now!"_

Sydney blinked. Marshall was actually insistent. Definitely not the time ask how Marshall had gotten a hold of her new phone numbers. "Done. What is it?"

"I worked out the equations that we got from Hobson Laboratories." Marshall said, with almost none of his usual gusto. "It's a lot of scientific equations, and you don't want to know the math, but I have figured out who is impersonating Julia Milliken... It's Anna Espinoza."

There were very few names to could cause Sydney's blood to simultaneously boil and run cold. Espinoza's was one of them. "You are absolutely positive?"

"I re-ran the figures, and I had Kim double-check them," Marshall assured her. "There is no doubt in my mind it is Anna Espinoza."

"But we had her in custody as recently as two years ago." Nadia argued. "I know, because I nearly got killed putting her there."

"I'm well aware of that," Marshall sounded more high-strung then ever. "I'm going to get in touch with Langley, see if I can get a straight answer."

"I take it you've already notified both of the Jacks we have working for us, " Sydney queried.

"I expect you'll be hearing from them soon enough."

**4:20:07/4:20:08/4:20:09**

Almost two years ago, after Jack had taken over APO from the late Arvin Sloane, he had to run an operation involving Julien Sark in an attempt to capture Anna Espinoza. He had mercifully limited contact with either one—he never met Espinoza, and Sark _may _have caught a glance at him.

Despite all of that, Jack had never gotten a complete history from Sydney on her struggles with Anna Espinoza, but the last time he had had enough trouble running her to ground and he didn't to want to repeat the experience. And losing Julien Sark was, for him, unacceptable. Not even Kim or Nadia had gone near him for the next week, except for an emergency. And even when that happened, they knew where they could find him—either in his office, chasing down leads, growling at Marshall for not finding Sark, or at the firing range, where he had fired off, conservatively, two thousand rounds.

As stood in his temporary office at the Presidential retreat, Jack listened to the insanity of Espinoza's continued freedom, and he was slowly starting to feel just as he had then.

"Let me get this straight," Jack spoke rhetorically to Dixon and Tony at CTU. "We put Anna Espinoza in prison nineteen months ago, she escapes from a sloppy goddamn prison transfer f_ifteen_ months ago, and we have to find out about it second –hand from a scientific laboratory, because the bureaucrats at Division didn't want it to get out that they had lost one of the most dangerous spies in a bureaucratic circle-jerk!"

"We can be pissed at the powers-that-be later," Dixon told him. "Right now, we have to deal with the fact Anna Espinoza has been impersonating Allan Milliken's wife for nearly a year. I can figure out why; what I don't know is for who."

Tony raised an eyebrow and looked at Dixon across the conference room table. "We already know who's behind today's attack."

Dixon shook his head and sat back in the chair. "You don't know Anna Espinoza like we do. She's a pure mercenary, but the majority of her missions have been against organizations like Scarlet Circle."

"Furthermore, Sark was the one who helped give her up," Jack told them. "If she ever saw him again, her first move would be to kill him, not partner with him."

Tony shook his head. "I'm well aware that this brings in an added complication to something that's already byzantine, but right now, we can't waste time on speculation. We need whoever's in control of this virus, and who's behind today's events. Right now that means we have to find Anna Espinoza."

"Well, I can tell you right now, trying to back-trace whatever phones she's using is going to be a waste of time," Dixon said. "She knows our protocols better than we do."

"What's Syd have to say about this?" Tony asked.

"She found out two minutes before I did," Jack told her. "Frankly, given the history the two of them have, I don't think she's going to be particularly clear-headed as to how to proceed."

"Excuse me, Tony." Everyone was a little surprised to see that Chloe had entered the room. "Did you want to see the progress reports on the operation involving the Congressman?"

Dixon's head whipped around towards the tech, and Tony blinked, his mouth agape. "Chloe, what are you talking about? Who said..." His eyes narrowed. "Sydney. What made you think that Agent Bristow had the authorization for something like this?"

Chloe's eyes narrowed into a squint. "Do I look like an idiot? I've been working with Sydney for the past year. I know the way that she can sometimes tweak authority so that she can get what she needs done. I also am not stupid enough to try this kind of maneuver with the President's brother, not if I wanted to keep my job. So I made sure to get approval from above her."

Dixon leaned forward in his chair, and gestured to the phone. "Sitting in this room are two of your immediate superiors. You're on speakerphone with the third. So who gave you the approval?"

"Jack Bristow," Chloe told them simply

There was dead silence in the room for a moment, when Jack said, "Don't make any calls. I want to have a discussion with the members of my unit."_._

**4:24:33/4:24:34/4:24:35**

Once Bauer got Jack Bristow, he didn't say anything to him about how CTU found out, not even _that _they found out, only, "You're asking Wayne Palmer to try and go after a woman he trusted and cared about for the past year. What makes you think he'll be able to go through this without giving away the game?"

"Wayne has spent the part of his life showing a false face to the world as part of his job description," Mr. Bristow reminded Jack.

"Espinoza will be paranoid about any kind of meeting. She sees a security force, we won't even have a chance to grab her."

"Jack, we've done these kinds of operations a dozen times."

"That's not what concerns me," Bauer said. " Four years ago, I tried something very similar to what you're trying with Alexis Drazen. I severely underestimated the emotional makeup of the woman we used, and it was a fatal mistake. CTU had that hotel room surrounded and secure, and Elizabeth Nash still ended up killing him."

"You think that Wayne could take _Anna_?" Mr. Bristow said with a raised eyebrow.

"You know his file. Wayne was a Marine," Jack reminded him. "And the betrayal...we've both been there and gotten the t-shirt. You want to put someone with that much anger in the same room with the woman who deceived him?"

Even Sydney's father hesitated. "Agent Bauer, I'm sorry I went around you in getting this operation started , but you have to admit, it's the exact kind of mission you would argue for."

Bauer shook his head. "You're not listening. It's not about what I would do. Even if I give the okay, the second the President learns what we're planning, he'll leapfrog the entire chain of command to make sure that his brother is anywhere but near the line of fire. And you know someone in Division hierarchy is going to spill to him, when they learn about this."

"Try to keep it out of the chain of command for as long as possible," Mr. Bristow told him. "We can probably get this done in less than thirty minutes."

"All right. But get this straight," Jack said. "David Palmer is my friend. I've already had to tell him that his wife was killed under our watch. I'll be damned if I tell him he's lost any more of his family."

**4:28:21/4:28:22/4:28:23/4:28:24**

Sydney had directed Michelle-- the least experienced in field operations-- to maintain a guard over Alicia Ro until she was back in CTU custody, so that she and Nadia could get back into play by the time her father had helped get everything moving.

Sydney's phone rang again. Wearily, she picked it up. "Bristow."

"Bauer. Sydney, what the hell were you thinking going behind Tony's back?"

"All I was trying to do was avoid _this_ argument," Syd said tiredly.

Jack did something that made Sydney take her eyes off the road and look at the phone—he laughed. "If you're worried about me, you'll be terrified when the President talks with you."

"I'm well aware of what I am asking Wayne Palmer to do," Sydney said.

"I'm sure you do. And setting up a meeting between the President's brother and a stone killer is the sort of thing I would do. But at least give me credit for at least giving notification before I abscond with him."

"I wanted to keep all of you isolated in case there was fallout."

Sydney could almost hear Bauer roll his eyes. "Since when have I given a damn about that?"

"Good point." Sydney asked. "I don't hear you berating my father for this."

"That's because I already had this conversation with him. I still need to teach him the finer points of stepping on the toes of upper management."

"So, what are you calling about if not that we're using Wayne as bait."

"Well, for one thing, to tell you not to use that 'bait' term when you're on the phone with the President. I'm sure that wouldn't ease his troubled mind about this operation. And be sure to tell Wayne what you're doing with small words...he was a marine after all."

Sydney almost smiled. "So was Tony."

"Yes, but he got smart and joined CTU. Wayne went into government." _Click._

Sydney glanced at her sister. "When did you get him to lighten up?"

Nadia merely smiled and leaned back in her chair. Syd's phone rang again. "Bristow."

"I just want to be clear," Wayne Palmer asked, "when I ask," he hesitated deliberately, "this woman to meet with me, I'm going to need a pretty good reason for her to break whatever timetable she's now on to meet me.

"Stick as close to reality as possible," Sydney paused. "Tell her that the Secret Service has Allan Milliken in custody, and that they need her to come up with the evidence that she's collected in order to begin prosecuting him."

"She'll expect me to meet her at the retreat for that," Wayne pointed out.

"You can suggest it, but it's the last place that Anna wants to be. She'll ask for some kind of alternate meeting place. Get her to suggest some public place with enough of a time delay for us to get on site."

Sydney noticed Wayne's hesitation. "Congressman," she said. "am I asking too much of you?"

"You've been wasting a lot of time if you think I can't," Wayne countered.

"Officially, all I need to hear from you is that you can do this." Sydney paused. "But I had to go through scenario after scenario trying to convince a man I wanted dead that I was loyal to him. I'm not sure where I got the reserve to keep from killing Arvin Sloane everyday I went to work, and I was trained for it. You've had to deal with something as devastating in less than an hour. So I need to know, is this within your capabilities?"

Wayne hesitated again. "I'm a politician, Sydney," he told her. "My life is based on lying. It's also a field where sometimes you have to do what is hard for the greater good of the country. Now, I put this country in danger when I had an affair with this woman, and I need to do something to clean up the mess that I made."

What nobody knew was the nature of the mess the Congressman had made. Even he wouldn't have been sure of it unless he had seen was Anna Espinoza was doing right that instant.

"How long will it take you to modify the virus?" she demanded as she handed over the water glass that Wayne had sipped from when he'd met with her more than three hours ago to one of the Scarlet Circle people.

"Less than an hour," he told her. "Will you be in a position to use it then?"

"I don't see why not," Anna told him. "Even if they don't trust me anymore, we can still get close enough to get to the President."

**4:34:19/4:34:20/4:34:21**

Tony Almeida sat across from Wayne Palmer. "All right, you know what you have to say? Remember, you've never lied to someone who has lived her life being trained to avoid deception."

Wayne laughed as he took out his cell phone. "You clearly don't know how politics works. Are Jack and Agent Bristow patched in?" Tony nodded. "Then let's get this done."

He dialed. "Julia" picked up after one ring. "Who is this?"

"It's Wayne. I've been trying to reach you. Where have you been?"

"Like I said, I've been talking with my attorneys, "

"I have a feeling you won't have to worry about the pre-nup anymore," Wayne said calmly. "I've been talking with my brother. Allan's been arrested for this biological weapon."

There was a pause as Julia/Anna tried to measure her reaction. "You told the President?"

"Come on, Julia, you knew that I couldn't just sit on that information, especially with lives at stake."

"What are you talking about?" Anna demanded.

"You've about what's happening in Watts?" Wayne asked. "Now I don't have all the details, but David says that there's a strong possibility that this virus is connected to what's happening." He hesitated a moment. "He needs to know whatever information you have on the virus."

"The President wants to meet with me?" There was a slight lilt of surprise in Anna's voice.

"Yes, but he's too busy with the Chinese and what's happening over California. But he's given me the authority to act as his proxy."

"How… generous." Anna paused. "What does this have to do with Allan?"

"Julia, you have to know that this is bigger than your husband. Simon Grady's in custody, and he says he can link the virus to some very powerful people in DOD, and your husband, from what I've been told, isn't cooperating. If your husband won't give it to us, you're our only source."

There was a long pause on the other end. "All right, but neutral territory. I'm not going anywhere near any government facility. Redondo Beach. Just off Hawthorne Boulevard. I'm telling you now, I probably won't have anything definitive."

"That's my concern, not yours." Wayne terminated the call.

"Well, she bit." Sydney said, when she was sure the line was empty. "Now comes the hard part."

"Which, grabbing her or telling the President?" Jack asked.

"Either."

Wayne shook his head. "You guys have enough trouble. Let me deal with David. I'll talk to him on the way there."

Anna Espinoza hung up with Wayne Palmer and turned to the lab rats she was working with. "Change of plans. How long will it take for us to make the virus family-specific to Palmer?"

The scientist smiled. "Already there. It's the amount of DNA that we give it. For him it would take longer, but right now, we can kill him, his mother, brother, sister, everyone but his in-laws. Why?"

"Bottle a sample and get a team together. We're going to meet the President's brother."

**4:41:08/4:41:09/4:41:10**

Jack Bauer had been on the road the moment the name "Espinoza" had popped up, and was already on the road when Redondo Beach was chosen. He had merely taken a different exit, and had arrived within moments.

And he wasn't the only one.

He had chosen a perfectly good vantage point in a parking structure across from the target area.

And Sydney and Nadia were already there, and they seemed to have brought every field agent in the area.

Syd lowered the binoculars from her eyes, glanced at Jack, and said, "We borrowed some of the CTU people on the way from the hospital. You'd be surprised how many of them we left there since this morning."

Jack narrowed his eyes. "No, I wouldn't. May I ask—"

"Don't start," Nadia cut him off. She hadn't even moved her eyes from the high-powered binoculars she was using to view the park where the Congressman and Anna Espinoza were going to meeting. "We're not leaving."

Jack winced. He knew he would be walking on eggshells, but he didn't think he had a choice. "All due respect, when Anna nearly killed you, Syd went off the deep end. I was there, when she had to handle the missions with," he hesitated, "your father, and comparatively, she exercised a great deal of restraint. Going after Anna, we practically had to keep her on a leash to stop her from snapping the woman in two."

"Well, maybe, if you hadn't, we wouldn't be in this mess right now."

That was unusually brusque for the woman he loved. Jack only shook his head. "And you think I didn't want to give her the Nina Myers treatment?"

Nadia smiled. "I saw Anna briefly after I got out of the hospital. Are you sure you did not give her a preview?"

He smiled slightly...and then his phone rang. He grimaced. "Bauer," he said sorely.

"Jack, it's Curtis. Congressman Palmer's ready to go."

"Copy that, I'll make sure we're all set up on this end." He turned to Nadia. "Are the snipers in position?" he asked.

"Yeah, but given the layout of the place, we could only fit two in." Nadia must have known how indignant this would have made him, because she put her binoculars down. "Jack, we're right on top of the highway. The terrain couldn't get much flatter, which is probably one of the reasons that Anna wanted to meet her in the first place."

Jack would've asked Nadia why she thought Anna would be that suspicious, then realized if he were in her place, he'd be thinking along the same lines. "How secure is the location?" he asked Curtis instead.

"If we make it too secure, Espinoza's going to be pretty suspicious," Curtis told him.

This, too, was pretty obvious. Jack was liking this setup less and less, but he knew his orders. "All right, let's get this started, " he said into the cell. "Send the Congressman out."

He took out his binoculars and his walkie-talkie, and began to monitor the situation from a little more than two hundred feet away, hoping things would run smoothly long enough for them to prevail

**4:45:06/4:45:07/4:45:08/4:45:09**

In order to maintain the illusion of normalcy for as long as possible, CTU had prepped Congressman Palmer before he had even made the phone call. Wayne had then driven his car out to the promenade where he had agreed to meet Julia/Anna, parked and had gotten out, walking down Hawthorne Boulevard.

Despite the havoc that had already settled over LA in the past few hours, it was a nice day, and there were still a few people out, enjoying the late afternoon breeze. It was therefore easier to hide the two plainclothes CTU agents that were walking around the meeting area-- one sitting at a park bench , the other reading a book next to a wall.

"All agents, Wayne Palmer is in play," Jack whispered into his com. "Acknowledge positions." The agent at the bench took of his baseball cap, the one near the wall whistled quietly.

Belying its name, Redondo Beach was not entirely a recreational area. In fact, it was the site for some of the more active oil fields in LA. There were several derricks in operation, and several of the miners of shutting down the equipment for the day. Wayne walked past a couple of these fields towards the east side of the beach, looking around for the woman he was meeting.

A sky-blue Mercedes that was way above the pay grade of many politicians pulled up on the far west side of the area. Anna Espinoza got out of the car, still wearing the same pantsuit and sunglasses Wayne had seen her wearing a few hours ago. She might have looked exactly the same, but there was no way he could see her as the same woman.

"All units, target has arrived on scene," Jack Bauer whispered into his com to the agents on the ground, and the snipers, one of them hidden on a building, one concealed on a derrick two hundred yards away

Wayne walked over to her at a normal pace. "What the hell have you gotten me into?" he asked in a voice that usually rolled over opposition.

Anna did not appear the least bit fazed by this outburst. "How was I supposed to know that my husband was developing a weapon like this?" she asked reasonably.

"My brother is dealing with two major crises today because of this project!" the Congressman told Anna.

"He should know better than anyone how quickly racial violence can spread."

"It's worse than that." Wayne's voice dropped to whisper that the parabolic microphones barely heard. The Chinese Premier has been infected with the virus."

You had to hand it to Anna; she appeared to take this hard. "Seriously?" she said in a low whisper

"I don't know all the details, but they think he'll be dead before the day is over," Wayne said. "Unless we can convince the Chinese government that this was not a deliberate attack, they'll probably declare war on us in a matter of hours."

Anna looked so horror-struck that she had to brace herself on a nearby bench.

"Have you got a clear shot yet?" Jack whispered into the mike.

"Negative, she's too close to the Congressman."

Bauer had seen Anna up close and personal only once, and she had been so busy dealing with Syd that he'd only been able to make a few scattered observations about her reflexes and reaction time.

But there was something...

He refocused the binoculars closer on Anna's free hand—the one not bracing her on the bench. She wore a ring—which, in itself, wasn't unusual—but he could see the design. It was octagonal, and obviously edged.

And then he caught the glint of sunlight at just the right angle as she reached for Wayne Palmer's hand...

"Fire. I repeat, fire. Get Wayne Palmer's head _down_!"

He ripped the binoculars away from his face and growled, "She's trying to infect him with the virus!"

He pushed to his feet and broke out into a run, drawing his gun along the way.

The first burst of gunfire rang out, shattering the bench. Wayne threw himself to the ground in a roll, coming to his feet several feet away from Anna.

Espinoza, on the other hand, drew a Ruger and leapt behind the bench, firing as she jumped. Both plainclothes agents were dead on the ground.

"All units, converge on the target!" Jack cried out into his radio. "Espinoza has taken out our ground units!"

Anna's gun refocused itself on Wayne Palmer. The congressman managed to maintain a level tone. "Don't be an idiot," he said in a relatively calm tone. "CTU has you surrounded."

"I think I've proven how little your government frightens me." She cocked the hammer back. "Make any effort to run, you die."

Wayne slowly backed up. "No, you wanted to meet me here. I think you need me."

Anna smiled evilly. "Think what you like."

Another shot rang out, the sniper's bullet blasting apart the bench.

Jack burst out around the corner. "Anna! Give up! There's no where to go."

**4:51:22/4:51:23/4:51:24**

The moment Jack got into Anna's line of vision, she shot Wayne Palmer in the thigh. "Call off your snipers, Bauer!" she demanded. "I know they're out there, so don't try and bullshit me!"

"You must think I'm an idiot," he told her as he got stopped roughly ten feet away from Anna. "Without them, there's nothing to stop you from killing him and me."

Anna gave a shark-like smile "I could blow the Congressman's head off right now, and your orders would still be to arrest me," she argued. "See, I happen to know that what Wayne told me is absolutely true. You do need the people who created this situation. And I happen to be one of them. I die, you lose any chance of getting to my collaborators."

"We already know who they are," Jack said.

"But you don't know where they are, and I do," Anna reminded him. "That's why I acted out this whole charade ."

"If you knew it was a setup, why bother coming?" Jack said.

Anna smile flickered momentarily. "You thought you were so clever, putting on this little play," she said. "But did it ever occur to you that I might actually have wanted to see Wayne Palmer? That there's a reason I changed into Julia Milliken's body in the first place?"

An ugly picture was starting to form in Jack's mind. "This is bigger than the virus," he muttered.

Anna's smile regained it's intensity. "But that's all you get, unless you do exactly what I tell you to.."

"It is not the policy of the United States to negotiate with terrorists."

Jack had been so focused on Anna, he hadn't heard the speaker approaching; when he realized who it was, he realized there had been _two _reasons for that.

"And it is _my policy_ to never negotiate with an asswipe like you," Sydney told Anna, as she came up from the far left.

If Anna was even slightly taken aback by the appearance of her nemesis, she gave no sign. "I was wondering why I hadn't seen you, Sydney," she said. "How's your sister?"

"I think we've had more than enough small talk," Sydney said as she raised her weapon. "You're pinned. Throw down your gun."

"Nothing's changed, Sydney," The calm in Anna's voice was becoming infuriating. "You still need me alive."

"You can't negotiate if you're a corpse," she argued.

While Sydney and Anna bandied threats, Jack looked at Anna's other hand. For some reason, she was holding an atomizer...what would she be doing with a spray bottle...

"Wayne, get out of here!"

Anna trained her gun on Wayne, putting the atomizer in front of the barrel of the gun—in the hope that the bullet would be covered in the virus especially designed to kill David Palmer's family.

Jack snapped off one bullet. It grazed the barrel of Anna's gun, doing no more than scratching the metal, but it was enough to knock the bullet's trajectory off-line of Wayne.

Anna deliberately spun in the direction of her gun, moving with the with the force of the bullet, and fired three times at Sydney, bolted to her immediate right, away from Sydney and the snipers.

Jack was on the radio immediately. "All units!" he shouted. "I need a position on Anna Espinoza now! And get me a Hazmat team, I need this area secured and Wayne Palmer tested for the virus." He ran to Wayne, grabbed him by the arm, and started moving him away from where the atomizer had broken open. "You okay, Congressman?" Jack asked .

"I'm okay," he muttered. "Get that bitch."

Anna couldn't go west, because only the Pacific lay in that direction, north was out because that would put her right into CTU's arms, and east only led to the highway, which was useless without her car.

So, for the moment, she had only one option left to her. The odds of Anna actually managing to escape on foot from several CTU vehicles seemed very remote, but Sydney knew her foe far too well to think that it would be impossible.

However, Anna had forgotten the other person from APO who wanted to see her dead, and nearly a minute after leaving the park, she literally ran into her.

Or to be more precise, when she literally ran into Nadia's pistol being slammed into her face.

Espinoza fell back, and the blinked, looking down the barrel of Nadia's Glock. "Don't you even apologize when you run into someone on the street?" Nadia asked Anna. "Otherwise that person can never give you a proper thank you for putting a bullet in their chest."

Anna smiled. She took a handkerchief and tapped her bleeding lip. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got pressing business elsewhere."

"Maybe you've forgotten how this works. You've put up a noble fight, but you're surrounded and outgunned. As we say in America, ballgame's over." Nadia got on the radio. "All units, target is down. Coordinates are--"

Anna tossed the handkerchief into the air, and it went up in a burst of flash-paper, the bright white magnesium light blinded Nadia. Santos still fired off three shots—

--but Anna had rolled away the moment she has thrown her distraction. She kicked up, flipping to her feet, and lunged forward, past Nadia's gun—

Nadia stopped...she had felt an impact, but she couldn't tell what..she couldn't even see yet. She suddenly found it hard to breathe. Her chest seized as she struggled to inhale.

The stars from in front of her eyes cleared...and she saw a knife sticking out of her chest.

Anna smiled, her eyes narrowed like a cat that had put one over on its owner. "I should've told you...I hate to leave a job unfinished."

Nadia's mouth opened, and she tried to speak. Her gun tumbled from her fingers. Her knees were about to give out...

Anna was about to step away, then paused, grabbed Nadia's fallen gun, then the knife in Nadia's chest. She twisted it, and yanked it out of Santos's chest.

"Waste not, want not."

Anna smiled, and ran off, as Nadia Santos fell to the ground, bubbles of blood already forming at her mouth.

**4:59:57/4:59:58/4:59:59/5:00:00**


	12. 5:00 PM TO 6:00 PM

Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**The Following Takes Place Between 5:00 P.M. and 6:00 P.M.**

Déjà vu all over again. Anna had been pinned down, then slipped through their fingers, and incapacitated Sydney's sister at the same time.

It was starting to feel like Sydney Bristow's life was trapped in reruns.

And once again using the traditional ice queen mentality that Sydney had always detested about the woman, she had done so in such a way as to guarantee that both she and Jack would have to slow their pursuits in order to do so.

"_Fuck!!" _Sydney shouted as she knelt in front of her sister, and tried to assess the damage that Anna had done. "Curtis! Get a medic to my coordinates, _now!"_

Sydney looked over her sister. Nadia was aspirating blood—little bubbles were forming at her mouth. There had been no major critical artery or vein hit, otherwise Sydney wouldn't be looking over a dying sister—only a dead one. Syd had medical training, and had been in enough situations to figure that the damage had been somewhere in her chest, but not through the heart.

"S-- Syd." Nadia was awfully pale, but was still conscious if only by the slimmest of margins.

"Sshhh," she told her sister, "don't try to talk."

"H-- how bad—is it--?" As always, the Derevko women were incredibly stubborn in taking orders.

"I don't know," she told Nadia. "She got you in one of the lungs, but otherwise—" She tore off a piece of Nadia's shirt, and started to make a tourniquet.

"I-- did it," Nadia whispered with a major effort. "I placed the tracker."

In the back of her mind where things were important, Sydney knew that this was absolutely vital to what they did next, but she was having a very hard time making herself care. "That's good, that's great Nadia, but you need to save your strength, you gotta wait for the medics to get to you."

By now the med unit had arrived, with Jack leading the group—Bauer burst out around the corner like a man at an Olympic sprint event.

In addition to the anguish and rage, Sydney could see some of the vestiges of shock—the sight of another woman he loved lying in a heap, blood rushing out of her chest...just like Teri after being murdered by Nina Myers nearly four years ago.

Bristow dismissed the shock. It would pass, and when it finally did, there would be no corner of the world where Anna Espinoza would hide. Jack would track her down, and rip her to pieces with his teeth, like a lion to a gazelle. This was, of course, assuming Sydney didn't get there ahead of him.

Nadia was ready for transport within seconds—the CTU med team had had more field experience than entire forward-deployed MASH units.

"How bad is it?' Jack asked one of the medics, in a voice that lacked much of the steadiness that he had gotten them through so many crises over the past couple of years.

"She only had time to get off one stab," the doc said grimly. "I don't think she hit a major organ or any arteries, but we need to get her to the nearest hospital now, before this gets any worse."

Fortunately, a CTU chopper had been used to get the Congressman and half of the tactical team here in order to beat Anna to Redondo Beach.

Curtis stood back until the medical team started moving away. He walked with them, looking from Jack to Syd and back again. "What are you and Jack gonna do?"

Sydney knew that protocol dictated she had to give some order as to how to handle Anna, but right now the threats of everything—the virus, the Premier dying, riots, possible war with China—all seemed relatively unimportant. The next person in the chain of command was Jack. And now Syd realized another heartless fact—one of them had to step up now or the situation would spin out of control.

And, typically, it was up to the man considered the most heartless to get back on track. "Congressman Palmer probably wasn't infected, but he'll have trouble walking."

"Good," came a weak voice from the stretcher. Nadia's eye were open, locked onto Jack like a limpet mine. "I'll...look after...him." She smiled. "After all...I am going to the hospital... An—Anna's always sl-sloppy when it comes to trying to k—kill me."

This actually got a smile out of him. He walked up to her and clasped her hand.

"Get her," she told him, speaking with a great deal more effort. "We must clean up this...You have to stop h—"

She trailed off, mid-sentence

"Okay, she's out of it," one of the medics, "We can transport her now."

"How long will it take you to get back to CTU?" Sydney asked.

"Less than ten minutes," Curtis told her.

"We'll get her," Jack whispered in Nadia's ear.

Jack turned and started striding towards the SUV, breezing past Bristow.

Sydney turned and started after him, pulling her cell phone and dialing APO.

"Sydney," Mr. Bristow's voice came through, crisp and clear and as businesslike as a CEO. "Anna is heading north down Hawthorne Boulevard," her father answered his in ever calm and controlled voice. "Given her current rate of speed, she must have a car. Marshall should have a location in two minutes." Sydney's father paused. "And remember, she has to stay alive until she leads us to Sark."

"Of course," Sydney said. "Killing her only ends the pain."

Mr. Bristow paused a moment. "Sydney, has it occurred to you that you might have been working with Jack Bauer for too long?"

"In this case, no."

"Sydney...just because it was your idea to have Nadia put the subcutaneous transmitter on Anna doesn't make it your fault."

"Then whose is it?"

"Sydney—"

"Make sure the teams that corner Anna are heavily armed. We're not doing the usual dance again."

"You won't be in pursuit?"

Sydney looked at her watch. "She has too great a lead on us right now. We'll head back in to CTU and coordinate from there...and I'll hold Bauer in check as long as I can."

**5:09:48/5:09:49/5:09:50/5:09:51**

It would have boded even worse for her if Jack and Sydney had known that a scant five minutes after stabbing her sister, Anna Espinoza had all but forgotten that she had done it. Her sole focus was getting as much distance from Redondo Beach as possible. In that time, she made it back to a stretch just off the main highway, jimmied the lock of a piece of crap Ford, hotwired it, and drove like hell towards the Pacific Coast Highway.

The second she was on the highway, she made the phone call that she'd been avoiding for the last hour.

"Yes," Julian Sark answered.

"We just got royally fucked," she told him without sugar coating. "My cover has just been blown, and judging from the way CTU tried to grab me, the President has to know by now."

Sark managed to keep a remarkably civil tongue when he heard that the plan he'd spent nearly two years on had collapsed in a matter of minutes. "I guess I owe you an apology," he told her in his usually sanguine tone.

"An apology!" Anna, however, was livid. "I've been completely compromised, just like I told you I was. We won't be able to complete the next phase of this operation, and I'm not going to have any measure of safety, now that Bauer and Bristow are wise to our operation, and all you can say is 'Sorry'?"

Sark's voice grew noticeably colder. "What's done is done. We've got other protocols in place, and I have a schedule that needs to be maintained, if we're going to complete the final phases."

"Oh, no," Anna's voice dropped several tones lower. "You are not leaving me to twist in the wind."

"I thought CTU was in the process of hunting you down like a dog," Sark said coolly.

"Listen to me, Sark, I do not fucking fall alone!" Anna vowed. "Bauer and Bristow may want me dead, but the rest of the government is still interested in what I know. And I'd be more than willing to turn in the man who's been making all the other frogs jump today!"

"You know as well as I do that's not the case."

"Doesn't look that way to them," Anna hissed with glee. "You know as well as I do that there's enough of a trail back to you now. And it would almost be worth ending up back in prison or dead, if before I did, I could see the lying white asshole finally reaping what he's sown." She gave a sour smile. "Like to see you rat your way out of that, boy!"

There was a long enough silence to make Anna wonder if she'd pushed Sark too far. But, as always, his desire for self-preservation overcame his annoyance. "What do you want?" he asked in a level.

"Safe passage out of the country via a method of my choosing," Anna told him. "Along with the last payment to be delivered to whatever offshore back accounts I choose when I get to safety."

"That's going to take some time."

"I'll be arriving at Torrance Municipal Airport within the next ten minutes," she told him brusquely. "If you don't have the process complete when I call you back, you will not live to regret it. "

**5:14:05/5:14:06/5:14:07**

Jack's continued quiet, as he got behind the wheel while she had contacted APO and got the information about where Anna was headed, was starting to alarm her.

Jack waited until they were securely on the road away from Redondo Beach when he finally spoke up. "Whose idea was it to place the transmitter on Anna?" he asked calmly enough. Unfortunately, Syd knew that type of calm. It was the same type of calm he used right before someone died.

"You have to understand, Jack, this was an emergency contingency," Syd began slowly.

"Considering our adversary, Plan B might as well be plan A. You knew better than _anyone_ that Anna wouldn't make it easy, even if she believed Wayne in the first place."

Sydney decided not to argue the point. "I know her. Even with your methods, it would have taken hours to break her. Sark and Wang would have executed another attack by that time."

"So why bother?" Jack countered. "Using Palmer, teams—why waste our time?"

"Because Anna Espinoza is one of the cleverest operatives I know," Sydney reminded him. "Unless it looked and felt real, she would have suspected something."

"Was Nadia getting stabbed part of that strategy?" Jack's voice was getting lower. It was that tone that accompanied Nina Myers to Hell.

"Nadia and me both had transmitters on us," Sydney told him. "The plan was to disarm her, pat her down, plant the transmitter on her, and then lower our defenses for a few moments."

"And you didn't think that Anna wouldn't seize the opportunity to get it one good shot at either of you?"

Sydney shifted in her seat. She didn't like where this conversation was headed. "We were going to disarm her—"

Jack's eyes never left the road, but they blazed with sudden rage. "Bullshit!" he roared. "You strip Anna naked in the middle of a desert, she'd gouge your eyes out with her nails. Someone like her is never unarmed."

This was such a valid point, Sydney decided to ignore it. "What exactly is pissing you off more, Jack?" she said, changing tactics. "That Anna managed to get the drop on my sister, or that you didn't know anything about the real plan to begin with?"

"This is not about that!" Jack said angrily. "Had you let me in on it, I would have been able to improve on it...like putting Wayne Palmer up to the task of bugging her!"

Sydney blinked. She hadn't even considered that. "Wayne is a civilian, not an operative—"

"That didn't stop her from showing up."

"She didn't believe him."

"We didn't know that. If she had, he could have gotten close enough to her that he could have put the device on her himself. Or I could have. Or a dozen other things I could have thought of with a fifteen-minute warning instead of these ideas I'm pulling off the top of my head! You fucked up, Sydney. Get used to it."

Sydney winced inside. Jack had listened to her before on her constant guilt about when things went wrong. She always took it personally. Whether or not Jack was deliberately hitting that sore point didn't matter, he had a death grip on it like it was a pressure point. But, ironically, the more she dwelt on it, the more he had a point. She hadn't even considered telling Bauer for the simple reason that it was her and Nadia against Espinoza, always had been, always would be. The thought of someone else being involved, to interfere with her payback...

She simply stared at Jack for a moment, and it struck her that she had become a parody of Jack Bauer—personal payback over professional sense.

Only Jack knew better than to do this.

_But my Jack...dad...approved it. It couldn't have been..._ Then it occurred to her that taking pointers from Jack Bristow about openness with her colleagues was sort of like Jack Bauer giving an ethics lecture about the treatment of prisoners.

Before she could dwell on it further, she got back on the radio with APO. "Marshall, you still getting a signal?"

"This is Kim," the young Bauer answered. "Marshall's stepped away a moment. But we repositioned the satellite monitoring Redondo Beach, and we have Espinoza. She's in a blue Ford sedan, currently heading southeast down the Pacific Coast Highway."

"What part of LA is she heading towards?" Jack asked, in a neutral voice.

"Half a mile away from the turnoff at Lomita, possibly to the Torrance Municipal Airport., but I doubt that's her final destination."

Sydney smiled to herself. "You sound unusually sure of yourself."

"If Anna has even half a brain, she'll be trying to get as much distance as she can between you and her. Torrance Municipal is strictly a private airport, mostly local flights. The next plane flying out of state only goes to Vegas, and that's not leaving for another hour. Considering the day she was planning for, she'd know the quickest way to get the hell out of the city. And I'm working on traffic cam pictures."

Jack nodded to himself. "Okay, Kim, that's a start."

"Dad...do we need Anna alive?"

Jack blinked, and glanced at the speaker phone. "Yes, Kim, why?"

There was a slight pause. When they first started dating, Kim had been, well, a typical teenager. She hadn't been thrilled, but she was understanding. While working at APO, she had become friends with Nadia. And now...

"Oh...because I just wanted to say... I want you to get her. And Marshall suggested that you just put a stake through her heart."

Jack blinked. "I intend to."

**5:23:44/5:23:45/5:23:46/5:23:47**

If Anna had belonged to a different culture of operative, considering her situation, she might have been expected to eat her gun. However, Anna was a mercenary in all aspects of her nature, and her next move was to try and negotiate for her life—a deal which, given the scope of her knowledge of terrorist activity, any President would be willing to sign off on.

But she also knew that Sydney Bristow was hunting her now, and that Sydney would sooner amputate one of her own arms, rather than allow any kind of negotiations with her—and that was before she had murdered her sister.

And then there was Jack Bauer...

Her only chance of survival was to get the fuck out of this parking lot, and if that meant killing all of the people who were now following her—well, she had managed far more complicated maneuvers.

Sydney and Jack were almost to CTU when the call came in. "We've got three dead, two more severely wounded," Tony Almeida said through the phone. "And we don't have Anna."

Jack furrowed his brow. "How did she manage that?"

"She turned the parking lot into a bomb site. She emptied her entire gun into the gas tanks of the cars around her, and then shot the pooling gas with the last bullet."

"What about the transmitter?" Bauer demanded.

"The explosion did something to the signal."

Jack ground his teeth, and slammed the steering wheel. "Damnit! You mean we've lost Espinoza, three agents are dead, and we're screwed!"

"Not yet."

Syd blinked, then leaned close to the speakerphone in the SUV. "We've got something? Is the tracer receiving again?"

"No. We found a small PDA. Anna escaped by jumping from the eastern face of the garage. But she didn't get away clean."

"You sure that it's hers?"

"I don't know who else would need a PDA that could survive a twenty-foot drop," Tony said. "Unfortunately, it's encrypted, but it's streaming to Marshall and Kim now, as well as us."

As if that was their cue, Jack's cell rang. "Bauer."

"It's Marshall. The last message on this PDA had nothing to do with the airport. She was trying to set up a contact with someone at the San Pedro Harbor."

Suddenly, things were making a bit more sense. "She never went there to get a plane," Sydney said. "She knows that every airport in California has her on the watch-list by now. But it's a hell of a lot easier to get past the harbor masters, especially if you know the right people."

"Which Anna apparently does," Marshall told them. "The contact number didn't register as an American land or cell line. Which its probably coming from one of the ships."

"Marshall, can you trace it back to its location?" Jack asked.

"San Pedro's part of Los Angeles Harbor," Marshall reminded them. "I'll need at least fifteen minutes before I can isolate the ship."

Even after all this time, it still amazed Sydney how often Marshall chastised himself for needing minutes to do what the best men in government needed hours for. "That's fine," Sydney said. "It'll give us enough time to assemble field teams and to notify Harbor patrol."

"I'll contact Division, make sure you have requisite manpower," Tony told them. "And don't tell me you're worried about spooking Anna. Right now, all the modest approach has done is get people killed."

Sydney expected Jack to object. Instead, he asked an important but not exactly pertinent question. "Tony, how's Nadia doing?" he asked.

"She's still under the knife," Tony told them. "Anna didn't hit any major arteries, but she got one of the lungs. The damage is serious, but not fatal."

Jack considered this for a moment. "Marshall, channel the rest of the data to the servers at CTU," he ordered. "There has to be something on it that'll get us a clue to the location of Wang or Sark."

"Jack," Tony said warningly.

"We're still going to try and take her alive," Jack told Tony. "But we need more options open to us, because I am not going to lose one more agent to that woman because we were treating her with kid gloves."

"So," Marshall said, his voice nervous, and as light as he could make it, "that means the gloves are off..."

**5:32:44/5:32:45/5:32:46/5:32:47**

If Anna had wanted to make the effort to find her contact at the harbor as close to impossible, she wouldn't have had to try that hard. The Port of Los Angeles, which included San Pedro, was one of the largest artificial harbors in the world. Hundreds of ships came in and out daily, and to try and isolate a single transmission source from it would have been nearly impossible for even the most brilliant of computer technicians.

And even though Marshall was one of a handful of people on the planet who _could _do it, he had to admit the process was giving him a pretty bad case of eyestrain.

"How many ships have we ruled out so far?" he asked Kim.

"About four hundred," Kim told him.

"Great," Marshall with a somewhat weaker show of his old enthusiasm. "Only six hundred and ninety four to go."

"Don't tell me that you're actually starting to flag," Kim said in mock amusement.

"Why, because I'm in the process of trying to find a needle in one pretty damn big haystack?" Marshall said. "And I don't even have a good solid electromagnet, which would do half the work for me."

"You're telling me that you're starting to complain about the quality of the tech you've got?" Kim asked, jestingly. "Unless I've been fatally misled, you designed ninety percent of it."

"I would think that would give me adequate cause," Marshall said. "Who better than me to know my own limitations?"

This kind of self-deprecation, even masked with Marshall's mocking tones, was really out of character for her boss. Kim knew him well enough to realize that he was worried about something else, and she thought she knew what it was. "Is this about Nadia?" she asked.

"What? N—no?" Marshall sounded a little offended at this. "She's Sydney's sister. Getting stabbed in the chest is just one of those things that make her deductible higher, and she's got the best health insurance plan in the country." He shook his head. "No, I just realized that the incubation time for the virus has just about reached its final stages. Which means that sometime in the next hour, the Chinese guy is going to die, and this will not only neutralize the treaty we signed, it'll mean that sometime soon, the free world's going to start lobbing nuclear warheads at each other."

Kim was used to her bosses discussing bleak scenarios in front of her; for Marshall to start doing it was really out of character for him, especially given his tendency to focus on his assignments rather than their consequences.

She decided to keep being honest. "Marshall, we've dealt with these nightmare scenarios before, and you've never been this upset."

"Yeah, when the situation's in your father's or Sydney's hands, I got no worries," Marshall told her. "Saving the world is right up their alley. But right now if I don't locate Anna Espinoza in, say, the next ten minutes, there's a good chance that she'll make a clean escape. And if you believe in chaos theory and the butterfly effect, as I do—a" Marshall was probably one of the few people on the earth who studied particle physics for laughs— "we'll be declaring war in about two hours, which will probably result in nuclear war, which leads to the eventual destruction of all life on the planet."

Kim wasn't sure which she was finding more discomfiting, the fact that Marshall was discussing the consequences of their failure, or that he was doing so in such a detached, almost cavalier, and very un-Marshall like attitude. She was saved further comment when at that moment Marshall's computer gave a chirp that Kim had once heard on an old rerun of _Star Trek_. "I think we've got it," she said calmly.

Marshall blinked. "Well, you know what they say, five hundred and ninety-fourth one's the charm."

With that, he speed-dialed Sydney and Jack.

"Bristow. Tell me you have something Marshall."

"The call originated from the_ Pushkin,_ a forty-five ton vessel originating from the Baltic Sea three days ago, charted to leave for Port-au-Prince at 7:15 tonight," Marshall read off the monitor. "It's bearing Ukrainian flags and is in the process of loading cargo as we speak. Loading Dock H15 on the easternmost end of the Harbor."

"All right, we'll notify our field teams, while you contact the harbor master." Sydney paused, then added, "Make it absolutely clear that everything has to appear SOP until we have a confirmed location on Anna. She's already hip to the last two plans. She sees a hair out of place on a customs official, she'll make a mess."

"Got it," Marshall said as he hung up. "Kim, get in touch with Customs and the harbor master."

As Kim began to work, she noticed that Marshall looked a lot more relaxed. "You okay?"

"Sure," Marshall shrugged. "Now, all Syd and your father have to do is corner and trap a dangerous assassin."

Even after working for him for nearly two years, Kim still had trouble gauging Marshall's reactions. "And that's not difficult enough?" she asked calmly

"Hey, for those two it's a walk in the park." Marshall hesitated. "Maybe that's a poor choice of words, considering the last assignment _was_ an actual walk in the park, and that sort of boomeranged, but still—"

"You consider the possibility that Anna's not there yet?' Kim asked. "She gets there and finds the harbor sealed off, she might turn and run."

"Anna didn't call that number at random," Marshall pointed out. "She wants something very specific on that ship, and she's going to make every effort to get there. When she sticks out her head, they'll hit her like a giant Whack-A-Mole."

"You really are stretching your metaphors today," Kim pointed out.

"My phraseology isn't at issue," Marshall reminded her. "Catching this bitch is."

**5:41:11/5:41:12/5:41:13**

Marshall might not have been so blasé about APO's chances of apprehending Anna if he had known how aggressive the mercenary had been in getting to the harbor.. In comparison with her method of getting to Torrance Airport, Anna had been positively subtle.

First, she had run down to a cross section of the highway until she reached an intersection with a traffic light. The second that a car with no passengers stopped, she had shot the driver from twenty feet away. She then went to the car, yanked the door open, pulled the driver from his vehicle and gotten in.

She then made two calls, deliberately saving the more important one for now.

"What the fuck have you been doing?" Sark actually sounded a little cheesed, which Anna knew from past experience meant he was really pissed. "Are you trying to get caught?"

"My sole interest, which I know is also high on your list of priorities, is survival," Anna reminded him. "I had to get CTU off my tail long enough to ensure that."

"And causing a major disturbance at a crowded airport ensures they'll be off you?" Sark said disbelieving.

"It'll kept them busy long enough to allow me to conduct another bit of business," Anna told him. "Life insurance, to be blunt."

"What are you talking about?" Sark asked neutrally.

"You think I'm a fool? You'd have one of your goons kill me the second I got to the harbor, if I didn't have something to guarantee you serious damage if something should happen to me."

Now there was a deliberate hesitation on Sark's part. "So you have the package after all," he finally said.

"Correction, I had it. You don't learn where it is until I am safely out of the country," Anna told him calmly. "The second that I'm in international waters, you'll get a call telling you its location."

"The item only hurts me if it gets into the wrong hands," Sark pointed out coolly.

"Which is why you're the second person I've told this to," Anna countered cagily.

"So you've already called—"

"That's why I liked you, Julian," Anna told him. "Never had to draw you a map. Which means I also don't have to remind you how incredibly fucked you'll be if this person gets a hold of the package before you do."

Anna took a moment to appreciate the corner she had backed her erstwhile ally into.

"There's a possibility that they'll betray you too," Sark reminded her.

"Yes, but at the moment I've more faith in them than I do in you," Anna's voice turned colder. "Besides, you're the one who has the opportunity to betray me first. I have to worry about you before I can about them. I'll be at the location in ten minutes, which gives you just enough time to call off your dogs."

Sark was silent long enough for Anna to wonder if she'd overplayed her hand.. Instead, he gave a dry chuckle. "Care to share the joke?" she asked.

"You've put me in the position of having to root for CTU over my own interests," he told her bluntly. "Don't worry, you'll get no opposition from me. But you'd better hope that you've done a good job shaking the government's tail. Because if you haven't—" He trailed off. "Well, I don't have to finish that sentence, do I?"

This time, he was the one to terminate the call.

**5:48:26/5:48:27/5:48:28/5:48:29**

Sydney and Jack had almost reached San Pedro Harbor before Marshall had told them that the last text Anna had received had come from the _Pushkin, _along with the dock it was scheduled to set sail from in less than an hour. Learning this, Jack called both Tony and Sydney's father to help coordinate with the various federal officials and the harbor masters.

Sydney, in the meantime, was trying to get as much intel as she could from Marshall. "Have you any luck isolating the phone that made the call?" she asked.

"If the call had been made from a personal phone, I might have," Marshall told her apologetically, "but this call was made from a ship-to-shore line. Could have been anyone of the crew of the boat."

"You get anything off the ship's manifest?" Sydney countered.

"I tasked that to Kim," he told her. "She said she'd let me know if there were any possibles, but given Anna's connections with the former Soviet Union, it could be anyone on that ship…"

Sydney got out of the car and began walking over to the section of the harbor where the feds were setting up. "Do we have satellite covering the dock?' she asked.

"I lined up the satellites the second we got a location," he told her proudly. "We have total coverage of the eastern end of the harbor. Second she pokes out her head, you'll know it. I mean, if you don't spot her first."

"Marshall, " Sydney said with rare candor, "all the trouble that Anna has put this agency through in the last couple of hours alone, it might be better for the mission's sake if someone else does us that honor."

"You could also argue that considering the effort it's taken to find her, it's not in your best interest to just plug her the second she shows up."

"A valid point," Sydney admitted. "You wouldn't mind telling that to Jack?"

"They don't pay me enough for that," Marshall paused. "Then again, considering the long hours and efforts I put in, especially on days like today, they probably don't pay me enough, period. And there's no time and a half for helping save the world, is there?"

"If there was, I could've retired years ago," Sydney told him ruefully. "I'll get back to you when I'm in position."

She hung up, and walked over to Curtis, who had flown back from CTU after dropping Nadia at the medical unit. "Well, here we go again."

"The teams all know who we're looking for," Curtis told her. "I guess the question is, how badly do we still need her alive?"

"We need this woman's contacts and any intel we can get out of her," Sydney reminded them. "The answer to your question is: alive, yes; but bloody will suffice."

She got on the radio. "Jack, our teams have moved into position," she told him. "You?"

"All set over here," he told her simply. "How long after confirmation do we wait before grabbing her up?"

"Just until we see who she's meeting with," Sydney said. "I doubt she's meeting Sark or Wang here, but maybe we'll run into someone a little higher than her on the totem pole."

There was a pause before Jack spoke. "So now we wait."

Fortunately, they didn't have to for long.

**5:52:47/5:52:48/5:52:49**

The set up at the harbor was a little to much like the one at Redondo Beach an hour ago—the harbor had not been blockaded in order to keep Anna from being suspicious. Granted, there were twice as many armed agents hidden in the shadows, but given how easily Anna had managed to out maneuver them an hour ago, Jack was not exactly holding his breath on their success this time.

He continued to think this when, once again, he spotted Anna approaching from the southernmost side of the dock. "All units, I have a visual on the target," he said into his radio.

"Copy that," Curtis asked. "How long until she's in the zone?"

"Less than a minute," Jack told them.

The _Pushkin _was an unimpressive vessel—dull gray, less than a hundred meters across from fore to aft, and less than eighty crew. The only reason that Anna would voluntarily get a boat this undistinguished was because it was mundane enough to sail under the radar, as it were. Several bulky looking men were in the process of loading the ship, but only one of them paid any attention to the striking black woman who was nonchalantly approaching the ship. Slowly, he moved from the loading until he was closer to her.

"I think we got something," Sydney told me. "Jack, he's closer to you. Do you have a visual on the man with Espinoza?"

"Roger that," Jack said. "I'm sending the photo to APO for ID."

Anna looked around several times before finally walking up to the loading dock. The dockworker that had approached her only did so twice before approaching her. They exchanged a few words before she began following him.

"Every way in or out of this section is covered?" Jack demanded.

"Yeah."

"Grab her," Jack went for one of the radio. "All units, move in _now!"_

The man assisting Anna was clearly a novice as this kind of espionage—the moment he heard the sirens start blaring, he looked around, like a fourteen-year old who's been caught jacking off to his Dad's _Playboy_s. Jack had just enough time to wonder why Anna was dealing with such an amateur before Anna pulled a knife and slit his throat. Before he had hit the floor, Anna pulled the gun and started shooting.

_How many weapons does this woman travel with?_ Sydney thought, as she trained her weapon on Anna, approaching from the east

"Give it up!" she yelled, as Jack approached from the west. "Trust me when I tell you that you don't have nearly enough bullets to take out our teams!"

Anna's reaction to this was to begin running to the end of the docks, shooting back at both teams the whole way.

Sydney had no idea what her exit strategy was—swimming to China, maybe—but not even that angle was going to work this time. For a click, she considered just waiting, but she had to much personal animus towards the woman to let this happen

Anna ran like the wind, but by the time she was nearly thirty meters away, a police boat pulled up with sirens blaring.

"This is the U.S. Coast Guard!" the loudspeaker blared. "Drop your weapon or we will open fire!"

Considering she was now boxed in, Anna's reaction was even odder. She began to laugh.

"Mind telling us what's so goddamn funny?" Sydney said as she ran up to her, Jack a few steps behind her.

Anna's reaction was to throw her weapon off the pier, and put her hands above her head.

"I want it noted," she said calmly, "before I am gutshot by this bitch, that I'm surrendering in front of both civilians and law enforcement." She looked around, almost amused. "Fire when ready.."

"You kidding?" Sydney told her as she walked up to her. "You're not getting off that easy. Not today."

Anna considered this. "By the way, how's your sister?" she asked almost casually.

Anna clearly thought this would provoke a reaction. It did, but not the one she'd hoped for: Sydney stopped, shrugged, and took Anna by the shoulders—and hit her with a vicious head butt.

"She'll be fine," Sydney muttered as Anna crumpled to the deck. "A lot better than you're about to be."

**5:59:57/5:59:58/5:59:59/6:00:00**


	13. 6:00 PM TO 7:00 PM

Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**The Following Takes Place Between 6:00 P.M. and 7:00 P.M.**

"Yes, sir, I do realize that." Tony did the mental five count he had to give himself when dealing with the people at Division. "As far as I know, the interrogation may have just gotten started."

Michelle looked at her husband, and remembered him saying that if had the people running Division leading him on a battlefield back when he was a marine, Tony would have felt fully justified to frag them. One at a time or wholesale, it really didn't matter.

Dixon slid in next to her on the landing leading to Tony's office. "What asshole from Division did we get the privilege of harassing _us this _time_?"_

"Right now, it's Alberta Green," Michelle told him. "But given the size of the mess were in, I imagine they'll all be calling at five minute intervals, each one just giving a slight variation of whatever the last one said."

"This is why I'm back in field work," Dixon told her. "The bureaucracy above me seemed to be full of arrogant pricks always waiting to tell me the things that I or my people had done wrong. I don't envy the headache Tony's going to have before we have the rest of these people are in custody."

"I'm pretty sure that they're saying that possibility would involve a lot of unvarnished optimism on your part," Michelle reminded him, "especially considering the time and manpower that were diverted to get a hold of Anna in the first place."

"And right now, I imagine there's at least one Division head telling Sydney and Jack basically the exact same thing they're telling Tony right now." Dixon said regretfully. "For these people, saving the world is secondary to keeping their asses covered."

Michelle cocked her head at him, "Syd doesn't talk about her time at APO...but between her and Jack Bauer, how many times have they saved the world by now?"

Dixon paused, and his eyes drifted to the side, just staring off into space. "Operation Hellgate, Chaos Theory, Trinity, the Area 51 mess, the little thing with that piddling drug cartel, Bauer's psycho ex-partner from MI6, the Russian incident, Rimbaldi super weapons..." he paused a moment. "Between the two of them, it's hard to keep track."

"You'd think that Division would clue into the fact that we have the right people running this op."

Just then, Tony hung up the phone and looked up. He waved to them through the glass box that was his office. Dixon just had the door open when he asked, "Dixon, you've been involved in these kinds of operations with Anna. How much effort do you thing it will take the break her?"

"That's new territory for us," Dixon admitted. "In all our clashes with this woman, we only had her in custody once before this, and interrogating her was a secondary protocol at best."

"Given Jack and Sydney's skills, do you thing they'll be able to get the information out of her without..." Tony left the implication hanging.

"Tony, I'd like to tell you that if anyone could do it, they could, but right now Anna thinks that she holds all the cards, which is going to make her less inclined to listen to anyone" Dixon told him grimly. "And this woman isn't Nina Myers, at least not in the ways that matter. Given how little we know about her, she'll probably smile while they start tuning her up."

Tony considered this. "Did we pull anything off the PDA we got off her?" he asked.

"We've got Chloe going over it with a fine tooth comb," Michelle told them. "None of the information leads to anyone we have already got in custody. "

"And I'm assuming that APO's in the process of going over whatever other technology they managed to pull off her at Harbor?"

"Doing it as we speak," Dixon told him. "You did make this clear to Green, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but they're not interested in hearing it at the moment," Tony responded. "Green made it pretty clear that she's holding both of them responsible for botching the original capture of Anna in the first place."

Given the reputation of Division of having hearts of stone, this didn't surprise either of them in the least. "I suppose the fact that Anna managed to get out of government custody in the first place doesn't enter into the equation at all?" Michelle pointed out.

"I imagine that Jack and Sydney will be making just that argument when Hammond or whoever calls them in a couple of minutes," Tony pointed out. "Their complaints will be filed away and forgotten seconds after they're made."

"Talk about fiddling while LA burns," Dixon said darkly. "I just hope Division doesn't do anything else that stupid before they get anything out of Anna."

**6:05:27/6:05:28/6:05:29**

What no one at CTU knew was that at that moment, Syd's thoughts were on the exact same subject. The one thing she missed about being in the field at APO as opposed to working a desk in CTU was that APO didn't have quite so much paperwork and chain of command. The entire chain of command could fit around her dinner table—if she really wanted to have Vaughn, Nadia, Kim, Marshall, Dixon, her father, and Jack Bauer all at the same table.

At CTU, there was the gigantic monolithic, nameless, shapeless entity known only as Division. The current in the long line of shifting faces of Division was a man named Hammond, a good friend of Ryan Chappelle, which should have clued her into the man's nature from minute one.

She did manage one interesting piece of information—the Chinese were still being themselves. It wasn't good enough to have proof of who did it, the Chinese wanted the _people_ who did it. All of them.

Sydney shook her head and looked over to Jack, who looked just as happy. "You dealing with Division?"

Bauer flipped the phone closed. "No, just politics. I was talking with Vaughn. You know about the Chinese?"

"I heard. We've got the evidence of who's involved, what's next? They want us to kill the assassins for them too?"

Jack sighed. "There's a reason Marshall calls them the Evil Empire."

"Yes, because he keeps watching _Star Wars_."

Jack didn't even comment. He glanced towards the dock, where Curtis and his team were dealing with Anna's "preparation." He blinked as Curtis started walking towards them. "That was fast."

Curtis raised a gloved hand. He was holding a knotted condom. "We found something."

Sydney blinked. "She swallowed something?"

Curtis shook his head. "No, too risky. There's a reason drug smugglers occasionally die—condoms break. This we found in a cavity search."

Sydney winced. "My apologies."

Manning smiled tightly. "No need. I didn't do it. He did."

Curtis nodded over to someone who looked more like a longshoreman than an agent—and given the way he was dressed, he had probably been drafted from the peer. He was taller than most of the crates, and appeared to be heavier. He was big and black and had hands like Andre the Giant.

"I explained that this woman was involved in starting the new Watts riot and the breakout. Thankfully, we had a set of gloves in his size...he was _very_ thorough. Don't worry, she won't bleed to death—we cauterized the bleeding."

Bristow had to keep from flinching in sympathy with Anna for an instant. A _very _brief instant. "She say anything?"

Curtis shook his head. "Didn't even wince as she was being mauled."

The flash disappeared. "Well?"

Curtis looked at the ballooned condom, then to Sydney. "Syd, if you think I'm going to open this one, you're crazier than Jack."

Jack rolled his eyes slid on gloves, and opened it, dropping the object onto the top of a CTU van's weapons kit. It was a simple, small bronze key.

"I don't know what it unlocks, but I have a goddamn good idea _where _we find it."

Jack nodded. "A storage locker at Torrance Municipal Airport. You want odd on what it is?"

Sydney nodded. "Knowing her, life insurance."

"Exactly." Jack's phone rang. He held onto it a moment. "Start working on that." He stepped away and opened his phone. "Bauer."

"Dad, I think we've got something off Anna's phone," Kim said. "The encryption that Anna put on this thing turned out to be cake and ice cream for us, and we managed to crack the last ten calls she made."

"What did you find?"

"The majority of the calls are the ones that Anna used posing as Julia Milliken to people at Congressman Palmer's and her house staff. But she made three calls in the last hour that lead to cell contacts we don't know about."

"Anything that gives us a lead on Sark or Wang?" Jack asked.

"These cells have some high-level firewalls that'll take some time to crack," Kim said apologetically. "But the reason I called was because Marshall was able to triangulate a location on one of the other calls that she made prior to her meeting with the Congressman. It's a biotech lab in the Dominguez Hills."

Jack pondered this. "That must have been where she was having the virus engineered to assassinate the President," he figured. "They must have needed a fallback when we took their lab earlier this afternoon.

"We also pulled an address off that's probably the place: Faraday Laboratories, 508 Ehrlich Drive. Anna made a series of visits to that lab over the past few days, the last one less than two hours ago. Next to the address are the letters SC. Dad, I think this could be one of Scarlet Circle's hideouts. "

Jack saw that Sydney was walking up to him. "You sent this information to CTU?"

"Yeah, they're waiting for your orders."

"Then I'd better contact them," Jack paused. "Great job, Kim."

"I have good teachers," Kim said modestly. "I'll get back to you if we pull any more relevant data from the phone."

Jack hung up, looked to Sydney. "Something else?"

"Yes. This is one of those rare cases where the dead are of more help to us then the living," Sydney told Jack. "Chloe got an ID of the Bad Samaritan who was trying to get Anna out of the country—a Polish national named Vladimir Weiskopf, who worked for a military base in Warsaw before the Iron Curtain fell."

"He didn't handle himself like a soldier," Jack reminded her.

"That's because he wasn't one," Sydney told him "He was a chemist, who has a doctorate in Medicine."

Jack winced. That couldn't be good. "What was his connection to the _Pushkin?"_

"According to the shipping manifest, he was only a passenger. But that's not why I think Anna dispatched him so violently," Sydney paused. "According to Chloe, he was supposed to be an expert on viruses."

"Of course he was. Did he have any vials on him?"

"No," Sydney told him. "But he had only come over on this ship, he wasn't scheduled to leave." Sydney pulled out a pager. "Curtis's men found this on his body. I've had Chloe check the last two numbers. One of them leads to a lab of the California State College."

Suddenly things were getting much clearer. "In Dominguez Hills?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Kim pulled an address off the Palm Pilot we found—Anna's last stop was Faraday Laboratories. She must have gone there to get the virus altered for use on the President."

"We need to send somebody out there right now," Sydney told him.

"We're the closest field team, and I'm sure we can borrow a helicopter from the Coast Guard."

"What about the airport?" Sydney asked. "Anna wouldn't have gone to all that effort if there wasn't something very important in that locker."

Jack looked at his watch. "If you leave now, you can get there in less than fifteen minutes," he told her.. "Of course, that leaves us with one minor obstacle."

They both looked towards Anna.

"I don't suppose you'd trust her to be under my supervision," Sydney asked rhetorically

"About as much as you'd trust me, given the circumstances," Jack countered.

With a sigh, Sydney took out her cell, and hit autodial.

"Jack Bristow."

"Dad, it's me. I take it Kim and Marshall have told us about the most recent leads that have come up?"

"We know about the biotech lab in Dominguez Hills," her father told her. "You get anything out of Anna?"

Sydney thought of the key she had retrieved. "In a manner of speaking," she said. "When Anna was causing her little rain of destruction at Torrance Airport, she also left something important. I'm headed out to pick it up, but it means I'd have to leave our dear lady under less than adequate supervision."

"You don't think the Coast Guard, CTU and APO agents, are more than sufficient to…" Mr. Bristow trailed off, remembering who he was talking about. "I'll have a squad there in ten minutes."

"Good," Sydney told her.

"Nadia came out of surgery about ten minutes ago. Turns out the wounds were mostly superficial. She needed the blood drained from her lungs, the hole patched up and the lung reinflated. She should be fine."

Inwardly, Sydney breathed a sigh of relief. "Finally, some good news," she told Jack. "Nadia's going to be okay."

For once, Jack didn't bother to hide a release of emotion, and smiled.

"I don't suppose that means she'd be any safer if you transported her with you," her father asked.

"I'm glad she's going to be all right," Sydney said, and made no effort to lower her voice. "But trust me, the only way to guarantee Anna's safety would be if she stopped breathing."

Sydney didn't bother to add that she was certain it would come to that.

**6:21:18/6:21:19/6:21:20/6:21:21**

"_There are conflicting rumors as to who or what started the chaos here in Watts, but the ripple effect is being felt across the city. Similar race riots have broken out in Inglewood, South Gate and Compton within the past hour, and so far, neither the presence of the LAPD or the National Guard have been able to staunch the bleeding so far."_

The President knew that watching the crisis on cable news was probably the last thing he should be doing right now, especially considering that their intelligence was a few hours behind the facts, but he had just completed two very difficult phone conversations, and listening to the veiled criticism of the networks was a distraction.

The first had been with the Governor of California in which he had told him that, despite the spread of the violence to other parts of California, he probably shouldn't mobilize the military. The reason he had given was not wanting to violate 'Posse Comitatus', the legal action which forbids the use of the military on American soil, and which could lead to even worse strife when other Black Americans learned he was using the Armed forces for just that purpose. The reason he had held back from the Governor was that he thought was going to need to utilize them on foreign soil much sooner than that.

The second call had been a very politely worded argument between the President and the Chinese ambassador from the Los Angeles embassy. The Ambassador had stopped just short of blaming the American government for the death of their Premier, and the President had stopped just short of claiming the Chinese government supported the attack on Americans, but that was about the only positive thing that came out of it The President had managed to persuade the Chinese of holding off any military action for the immediate future, but he knew that the mood in Beijing was probably explosive right now, and unless there was some kind of miracle, they could be at war in a matter of hours.

Compared to these rather significant obstacles, hearing the talking heads on the networks claiming his incompetence in leadership should lead to his impeachment was almost amusing. He knew that this would lead to fallout of a different kind, but right now, his political future was the last thing he was worried about. He needed to lead America through this, and he hated not being the guardian of his fate. There had to be something that he could do.

It was with that in mind that he picked up the phone, and instructed the operator to connect him with CTU.

"Mr. President," Tony Almeida said. "What can I do for you?"

"Mr. Almeida," he said without mincing words, "Premier En Lai has died. I have just talked with the Chinese Ambassador, and he has informed me that the people in his government are preparing to go before the U.N. with an ultimatum to my administration."

"I take it they will be making the same demands you told us about earlier," Tony said.

"That's correct," the President said. "Tony, I talked with our own ambassador a couple of hours ago. He's taken the temperature of the general assembly, and he says unless we can preempt this ultimatum before they are gaveled back into session tomorrow morning, as many as half the nations could vote with them."

"Sir, how much time do we have?'

"The session is scheduled for 6 AM Eastern Standard time," the President said.

"And I take it that the people we have in custody are not important enough to satisfy the Chinese?"

"No, it has to be Wang or Sark," the President told him "Are we any closer than we were a half hour ago? The woman Espinoza, have Jack and Sydney made any progress with her?"

"Sir, as we speak, they're both headed to locations that will probably give us a critical lead."

"But you can't say anything definitely." President Palmer hesitated. "If I were to give shadow asylum to this woman, do you believe she'd give us either of the people we're looking for?"

Tony hesitated a long time before answering. "Not unless we guaranteed her safety from our own people," he finally said.

"I heard about what she did to Agent Santos."

"Sir, in all candor, Jack and Sydney have wanted to see Anna dead long before today," Tony told the President. "They're fully aware of the consequences of Espinoza's culpability, but they are doing everything in their power to make sure you _don't _have to offer her a deal. Anna knows this, and will use what she has as leverage."

The President knew that he had been lucky in regard to Nina Myers nearly two years ago, but now that the stakes were as high as they could get, he knew he couldn't indulge either agent much longer. "Bottom line it for me, Mr. Almeida, do you think Espinoza knows where to find either of our targets?" he demanded.

"Yes," Tony said without hesitation.

"And only complete immunity would be enough to persuade her to talk?"

"She's a survivor, Mr. President," Tony replied. "She won't give us a thing, unless she's convinced of it."

David Palmer knew he'd made some decisions that weren't very popular, and this one might cost him the friendship of the man who had saved his life twice. He also knew making this kind of decision was what had he'd been elected to do. So he made one.

"I'm going to call the Attorney General," he told Tony, "and tell him to draft a deal that she will find acceptable. I will give Jack and Sydney until the time it's drawn up," he said, preempting Tony, "but unless they actually has one or both of the men in custody, I will have no choice but to give this woman what she wants."

Tony paused. "There's no other way?" he finally asked.

"The wolf is at the door, Mr. Almeida," the President said grimly, "and right now, I have to make decisions in the best interest of the country. Even that means dealing with one devil to capture another."

**6:29:03/6:29:04/6:29:05/**

Vaughn had hoped to see his wife when he arrived with his team to transfer Anna, but when he got there Sydney had already headed for Torrance Airport. Instead, he talked with Jack as he prepared to head out to Dominguez

"You sure that this is the best way to handle her?" he asked Jack.

"As much as it would make me feel better to beat the shit out of this woman, I don't think it would encourage her to give us anything," Jack said reluctantly. "She might even enjoy it."

"I'm not exactly one of her biggest fans either," Vaughn reminded him. He hesitated, then lowered his voice. "I have a lot of links with people in the CIA's detention camps as well as you do. You just say the word, and she could just… disappear into one of them. Her body could never be recovered."

"I've thought about that," Jack admitted, "and maybe at some point, we can even arrange it. But for the immediate future, Anna needs to stay alive."

"Why?"

"Julian Sark isn't capable of planning something like this on his own, and Anna would have just as willingly stuck a knife in him rather than do a job of this magnitude, we both know that. There's a bigger fish involved, responsible for bringing these two together, and that organization's going to make a try to get her, overtly or not."

Vaughn agreed with Jack's theory, but he could see a flaw in his logic. "We tried something like that when we made our first attempt to grab her, and you saw firsthand how badly that failed," he reminded him.

"Which is why we're not going to run that play again," Jack said grimly. "Hopefully, Sydney or I will find some lead that will make any effort irrelevant, but we may need to consider this before too long."

"In that case, Jack, you'd better get moving," Vaughn told him. "Because the more time passes, the better the chance is that someone higher-up the totem pole is going to circumvent both us, and offer Anna the keys to the kingdom if they give us these people."

"Right," Jack headed towards the helicopter, along with Curtis and some other agents.

"Is the prisoner secure?" Vaughn yelled over the roar of the chopper. It was a redundant question, Anna had been shackled when they arrived, and she had been transferred to a bigger vehicle, where she had been chained to the wall, but he knew as well as anybody there that only after encasing the woman in cement would they be relatively sure that she wouldn't be able to get free.

"She's not going anywhere unless we take her there," the agent in charge told him.

Vaughn got into the back seat of the vehicle, pulled the door shut, and double-locked.

"I must be very popular to get this kind of treatment," Anna said quietly. "You must really need to know what I know."

Vaughn fixed the prisoner with a death-stare. "Actually, the main issue is trying to keep you in custody. The official word from on-high is that you are going kept secure until the passing of the crisis. Unofficially--"

He slapped Anna hard across the face. "You nearly killed someone who's family to us," he said in a menacing tone that he was not often capable of producing. "There's no government facility in the world where you would be secure from our wrath. So, for the next few hours, I would be very careful what you say and do, and remember that you're alive only because we give the word. Got it?"

Anna smiled. "I can tell you have been practicing your Jack Bauer voice."

He knocked on the wall in front of him. "Get us out of here," he ordered the driver.

**6:36:48/6:36:49/6:38:50/6:38:51**

If the chaos at Torrance Municipal Airport had died down since Anna had left little more than an hour ago, it was only by the smallest of margins. Firemen and policeman were still dealing with the carnage from the explosion in the parking lot, passengers were standing in long lines behind police tap, and the airport had grounded all planes departing.

When Sydney approached the head of security inside the terminal, a skinny man named Felton, she was only slightly surprised when he flashed her an evil eye when she identified herself as a CTU agent.

"I certainly hope you've caught the woman who started this madness," Felton said, with a certain amount of aggression. "And maybe now you can tell me what she did to piss the government off."

"Mr. Felton, I'd love to tell you the full story, but…."

"It's not in my job description, I know," Felton said angrily. "She only killed three of my men, and blew the hell out of my security system. It's not like it matters to anybody here."

Sydney knew this was probably a violation of protocol, but at this point she felt the more people who knew how dangerous Anna was, the better they'd all be. "The woman was a hired mercenary who helped conspire to develop a genetic virus that has been used against America at least twice today," she told Felton. "She's also a trained killer."

Felton blanched. "It would have been nice to know that before I sent my people into the jaws of death," he said snarkily.

_And this is where I stop humoring local law enforcement, _Sydney thought to herself. "Mr. Felton, I believe that Espinoza came to this airport to leave something in one of your storage lockers." She took out a plastic bag with the key in it. "Where would she go to store something?"

Felton looked at the key. "Storage levels for passengers on outgoing flights," Felton told her. "Second right in the terminal."

"You have any idea which one of the lockers these keys unlocks?"

"No, but in order for her to get a key, she'd have to have made a reservation," Felton told her. "She'd pick it up before she left on her plane."

And Sydney had a good idea who had made this reservation. She took out her phone, and dialed Marshall.

"Marshall, it's Sydney. I need you to come up with any plane reservations at Torrance that Julia Milliken made in the last twelve hours.."

"Hang on," It took Marshall less than ten seconds to get into the airport database. "She made a reservation for the 7:15 the Las Vegas about three hours ago,."

"She ask for a locker key?" Sydney asked.

"According to this, yeah. Locker number is 65. You know where to find it?"

"I'm already there."

Sydney went to the locker and opened it. Given all the bullshit that had taken place over the last twelve hours, she half-expected the locker to have nothing in it. But for once, Murphy's Law had decided to haunt the other team for a few minutes.

"What was in there?" Marshall asked.

"A computer disk," Sydney told him.

"You need my help getting into it?"

Sydney shook her head. "There's a laptop in the vehicle I came in.," she told him. "You can probably just talk me through it when I open it there." As she began heading back, she asked: "Has my father picked up Anna yet?"

"Vaughn's already come and gone. Anna's on her way to a detention facility at CTU as we speak."

"That would be more comforting if she hadn't gotten out of a place just like it a year and a half ago," An awful thought occurred to Sydney. "They're not considering offering her some kind of deal, are they?" she asked

"I don't know," Marshall responding. "And, not to be, you know, on your turf, we can't afford to worry about this now. Jack's should be arriving at Dominguez Hills any minute, and I've got half my server concentrating on that, and we have to go through this disk. "

Reluctantly, Sydney put the issue aside. "I'll let you know when I'm ready to connect with your server."

**6:43:31/6:43:32/6:43:33**

Like Sydney, Jack had been less than thrilled after just handing Anna into less-experienced hands, even if they were under the direction of Sydney's father. But while he had was boarding the helicopter waiting for the pick-up to arrive, he'd gotten a message from Chloe, who'd been rifling through the local terrorist chatter.

"About twenty minutes ago, a call was made originating from one of the cell towers in Dominguez Hills where Weiskopf, the dead scientist's name was mentioned," she told Jack.

"You back-trace the cell it came from?" Jack asked over the roar of the chopper.

"Not so far," Chloe told him reluctantly. "The call originated from a scrambled cell phone with a shifting algorithm that you find on only the most advanced computer networks. But I did back-trace to within one hundred square meters of Faraday Laboratories."

"What was the nature of the call?"

"Someone was coming within the next half-hour to pick up a package," Chloe told him. "The message was that someone high up on the food chain was going to be there."

Jack didn't need a map. "I thought that they'd already had the virus engineered," he said.

"Hey, don't ask me to understand the reasoning of terrorists," Chloe told him detachedly. "I'm just the tech support." She paused. "However, you should probably know that we just got through examining the GPS on Julia Milliken's car. According to this, Faraday Laboratories was her last stop before Redondo Beach."

Just then the pilot tapped Jack's shoulder. "We're less than a mile from the site," he told him.

"Set us down here. Backup teams should already be on site."

**6:47:19/6:47:20/6:47:21/6:47:22**

Under the overhang of the Artesia Freeway, roughly a third of a mile away from the building, Jack was looking at the Laboratories through his binoculars.

A large black vehicle was pulling just outside the front entrance. Two men got out of the back doors, one man got out of the front.

"All right, I have probable confirmation of the target," he said into his walkie-talkie. "Are back-up teams in position?"

"Copy. Teams Alpha and Beta are assembled just outside the southern face of the building." Curtis said into the radio

"Remind all team leaders that Wang is be taken alive at all costs," Jack told them reluctantly. "We need whatever intel this guy has."

Jack put down his radio and reached for the megaphone. "Li Chen Wang!" he yelled "This is Jack Bauer of the Counter Terrorist Unit! We have you surrounded. Drop your weapons, and--"

A barrage of assault weapon fire greeted his response. He ducked as the bullets pinged all around the concrete separating him from the shooters. "All teams, move in now!" Jack shouted into his radio.

Each of Wang's men concentrated their fire on a different direction,-- east towards the freeway, north to another block of buildings, west to the quad immediately around the building. which might have been more effective if they weren't outnumbered three to one. As it was, two of Curtis' men and one of Jack's were cut down before they had closed the distance to the laboratory

In addition to his sidearm, Jack, like three other members of the assault team, was carrying an M4 carbine, an assault weapon whose compact design and rate of automatic fire made it ideal for the close quarters fighting they were in. The second his men started falling, he shouted: "Down!", fell to his knees and concentrated his fire on the center. All three of Wang's men had had on Kevlar vests, so it took the better part of a minute to bring two of the men down.

Jack was about the open fire on the third, when things became a lot more complicated. Wang, who Jack had seen go into the building emerged, with an Uzi in his hand. Slowly, he made a circle, concentrating his fire in a circle. By now, the other teams were close enough to the building so that his stream of fire was doing some damage.

By now, Jack was standing again and had forgotten the last of Wang's gunmen. His attention narrowed to the man responsible for so much of today's carnage. If Wang saw him, he gave no notice of it; all his energy was concentrated on getting back to his truck.

"All units, converge on the vehicle!" Jack shouted into his radio.

By now the last of Wang's associates had been taken out, and the remainder of their teams was center on it. Still, Wang was almost to the door, when two converging streams of fire took him down at the knees.

"Hold your fire!" Jack shouted as he closed the last twenty feet. Wang had been shot three times, but none of the wounds by itself looked fatal.

The terrorist made a last attempt to reach his weapon, only to have it kicked away from him.

"You're not getting away that easily," he muttered. "Curtis, notify CTU that Li Chen Wang is now in custody."

Back at the airport, Sydney as of yet knew nothing of this. She had downloaded the disk on her laptop, and Marshall was currently helping talk her through the decryption process.

"All right, now hit shift-6-shift-A, and you should be in," he told her.

"Marshall, on the level of software encryption where does this rank?" Sydney said as she typed in the last commands.

"Not that high," he said. "But I don't think the goal with this project was to make it impossible to find, considering that she didn't try exceptionally hard to hide it."

Sydney thought there was a flaw in Marshall's thinking, but it died on her lips the second that she typed in the last command, and the first image began to flash. "Holy shit," she muttered weakly.

"What is it, Syd?"

"It's a computer-scanned document of a book," she told Marshall. "There are drawings and formulas here. A lot of old languages and symbols that I've seen far too often."

Marshall's mouth closed. "Syd, are you telling me--"

"I am, Marshall," Sydney swallowed hard. "This is out of Rimbaldi."

**6:59:57/6:59:58/6:59:59/7:00:00**


	14. 7:00 PM TO 8:00 PM

Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

**The Following Takes Place Between 7:00 P.M. and 8:00 P.M.**

The sun was just starting to descend below the horizon as CTU officials began their search of Faraday Laboratories which, compared to the one Jack had searched less than seven hours ago, was a much smaller building, roughly the size of an ostentatious Beverly Hills loft.

"Sweep the place from top to bottom," Jack said over the walkie-talkie. "Go through the place with a fine tooth comb."

"Not all of our teams are equipped with the biological masks," Curtis told Jack.

"We don't need everybody searching," Jack reminded him. "Besides, given the nature of this virus, the chances of exposure being fatal are relatively slim."

He got back on his walkie-talkie. "Is the prisoner ready for interrogation?" he asked.

"We're ready to proceed," came the response.

Jack had started walking when his cell rang. "Bauer," he said.

"It's Jack Bristow. I understand that you've managed to seize Li Chen Wang." Mr. Bristow's tone sounded businesslike and casual, as though Jack had done nothing more than prepare a business brief for a board meeting.

"That's right; I'm about to begin interrogation."

"I'm going to have to ask you hold off on that."

Normally, with any other person, Jack would be wary about his hearing, and ask for confirmation. But this was Jack Bristow...possibly one of the few people who didn't give a damn about what Bauer thought...mainly because he thought that _he _always knew better. . "Why should I?"

"We're going to have to been him in holding until the Chinese government can take possession of him."

"The Chinese have every right to demand custody, but he's involved in a conspiracy far more wide-reaching than Scarlet Circle. Right now, we need to find out where to find Sark and whoever else Wang planed this with."

There was a pause on the other end. "Jack, the Premier's dead," Mr. Bristow told him. "Right now the remnants of En Lai's government are demanding blood. They've made it very clear that unless the people responsible are handing over to them within the next eight hours, they will have no choice but to declare war."

"Don't you think I know that?"

"Did you also know that they intend to go before the U.N. before this night is over, and present a demarche to America, demanding international support for this?"

Mr. Bristow told him. "Or that a goodly amount of the international community is willing to give them support for taking that action?"

Even though Jack had suspected that something like this would happen, to hear it voiced gave it solidity. "I didn't think it would go through that quickly," he admitted.

"The President is beginning to feel that desperate measures need to be taken," Sydney's father told him. "So much so that he was willing to offer Anna Espinoza immunity in order to obtain her fellow conspirators."

Despite everything else that was going on, Jack couldn't help feeling betrayed by the President. "So what are you telling me, that it's Anna or Wang?"

"Right now, the Chinese don't consider Anna high enough on the totem pole take her in trade," Mr. Bristow said bluntly.

Jack was now beginning to realize that he, like the President, was faced with a Hobson's choice-- only the end results were fighting on a global scale. He thought, however, there might be a way to have his cake, and eat it too.

"Send a message to the President," Jack told him. "Tell them that we will hand over Wang to his government within the hour. We are relatively certain that he will be able to lead us to his co-conspirators by the end of that time."

"You're going to be pissing off a lot of people in both governments if you get him too badly hurt," Mr. Bristow reminded him.

Jack smiled tightly. "Given what the Chinese will do to him, I somehow doubt that they'll give me much trouble."

There was a pause. "Before you get invested in this, I'd contact Sydney. I think she found what you were looking for at the airport."

**7:06:53/7:06:54/7:06:55**

When Sydney and Jack had taken out Elena Derveko and Arvin Sloane more than a year ago, Sydney had hoped that she would never have to hear the name Milo Rimbaldi again.

"Aw man," Marshall said, "I thought we had cut the head off of this vampire for once."

Sydney smiled wryly. "Aren't you always the one telling me that they always come back?"

"Do you have any idea what we're looking at?" Marshall asked over the cell.

"I was hoping you would know," Sydney asked. "Tell me you've got some kind of Rosetta Stone for this."

Marshall considered this. "I'll check, um, Mr. Sloane's old files. I'm pretty sure that he had at some copies of his studies on some old files that I, uh, wasn't supposed to know about."

"Good man." Sydney's phone beeped . "Hang on, there's someone on the other line." She punched a button. "This is Sydney."

"Sydney, it's Jack. What did you find?"

"You're gonna like this even less than I do," Sydney told Jack grimly. "The locker the key opened led to a computer disk. On this disk were several files, and the first one I opened led to something that has made this entire day a lot more complicated."

There was a pause. "Please tell me you're not saying what I think you're saying," Jack said grimly

"Someone very carefully scanned several pages of a document onto this disk. I'm still waiting on the translations, but after all this time, I know Milo Rimbaldi when I see it."

Even after all this time, Rimbaldi was still a sore subject for Jack. While he was a superb agent and a great leader, he was, at his most fundamental level, a realist. Fifteenth-century inventions that made present technology look prehistoric, and creations that could lead to apocalyptic scenarios were things that were very beyond the scope of what he was trained to deal with. In their time working on APO together, particularly in the final hunt for Arvin Sloane, Jack had only been able to lead the hunt by converting his search to the most narrow of levels: seek, capture, destroy. Beyond that, he admitted he wasn't equipped to handle this part of the job, and he was less equipped to accept Sydney and Nadia's bizarre role in the prophecies that they had discovered.

Even the first time that Jack had been introduced to the Helix project, the most normal of her little world, he had first asked what kind of people she dealt with, and promptly dubbed it an "evil twin program." And, after a device to turn people into zombies, another one to make them spontaneously combust, Jack asked, "Tell me why he hadn't been set on fire sooner?"

Now, Jack took a slow, deep breath and asked, 'What exactly are you looking at?"

"So far I've got a series of pictures of what I'm pretty sure are Rimbaldi devices, and underneath that is a long line of script."

"You can't read it?" Jack asked. "I thought by now you understood a goodly portion of this kind of text."

"I can," Sydney admitted, "which is why I'm really baffled. At this point, I could probably translate at least a line or two of this, but so far all I can make out is gibberish, and I think it's gibberish in any language."

There were a lot of things bothering Jack right now, so he tried and focused on the most relevant. "Has there been any evidence that the virus we've been spending the day dealing with has some kind of Rimbaldi wrinkle that we weren't aware of?"

"I'm not sure," Sydney told Jack. "These kind of genetic virus is cutting edge for this century, and nothing that we've discovered involving Rimbaldi either working against Sloane or with the Special Projects had anything on this level."

"Yeah, but you can say that about a lot of things Rimbaldi designed," Jack reminded her. "I've got a better question: we dismantled both of the major organizations that dealt with Rimbaldi, and killed most of the people who dealt in his artifacts. How is it that this is resurfacing nearly a year later, and what the hell does it have to do with the Chinese?"

Sydney considered this. "Sark's gotta be the link," she reasoned out. "He's the only player in any of this who has experience dealing with Rimbaldi artifacts."

"Yes, but we already agreed that Sark wasn't the ultimate man behind the curtain," Jack said slowly.

"Which means there's a bigger fish out there that has ties to this," Sydney said.

They both had a long moment of silence. The list of people who were experts in Rimbaldi had grown increasingly short. And since Bauer had thrown Arvin Sloane off a building in Russia, and Jack Bristow had blown Elena Derevko's brains out of her head, and if Sark wasn't the puppet master, the short list still had a Derevko on it.

"Look, I realize this is obviously a major development," Jack said, "but we have to make this information a secondary protocol."

Sydney knew as well as Jack if Rimbaldi was involved, there were no bigger problems. Then she remembered the situation, and thought he might have a point. "Did you have any luck at the lab?' she asked.

"Li Chen Wang is in custody," Jack told her. "However, as is typical of days like today, this doesn't improve our situation that much. The Chinese are in the process of putting the President's feet to the fire. If we don't turn Wang over to the Chinese government in the next two hours, we'll probably be involved in World War III not that long after."

This led to another crossed wire in Sydney's head-- a relevant one. "Would you say that someone's in the process of leading the world to utter devastation?" she asked rhetorically.

Jack considered this. "You're not going to tell me that Rimbaldi is prophesizing this war?" he countered. "Because if I bring this to the President now, he'll be inclined to dismiss us as lunatics, despite everything we've accomplished today."

Sydney tried to think about whether or not President Palmer knew the full scope of the problems with Rimbaldi. But Director Chase could certainly explain it to him if it came down to that. "What are you thinking?"

"Have Marshall go through this file as thoroughly as he can," he told her. "I don't believe for a second Rimbaldi is the only thing on it. Somewhere there's a clue as to whose hands the file was destined for. It clearly wasn't Sark, so we need to find out who, and we need to find out fast."

"What are you going to do?" Sydney asked.

"I promised that I would hand Wang over to them within the hour," Jack said grimly. "I intend to extract all the information that I can learn about his co-conspirators, particularly Julian Sark."

"In that case, I think you'd better hang up and get to work," Sydney replied grimly. "We're closing in on a nuclear showdown, and right now, your lead has a hell of a lot better chance of stopping it than mine does.."

"You say that now," Jack added, "but I have a sinking feeling that we're going to need both of them before too long."

And Sydney had a feeling that they were both right.

**7:18:25/7:18:26/7:18:27/7:18:28**

In the trickle down fashion that was typical of how events on days like today were funneled through APO, Vaughn learned about what was happening with Sydney from Mr. Bristow when he walked in the door of APO. He wasn't nearly as upset about as Jack Bauer had been, but that was because his experience with Rimbaldi was far different and more widespread. Furthermore, given the tendency of Rimbaldi's prophecies to focus on Sydney and her family, he was more agitated about this then a lot of other people in the government.

"Has Marshall managed to make any progress decoding the file?' he asked as he walked into the computer lab.

"He's been assembling a database based on every bit of Rimbaldi paraphernalia that Sloane managed to assemble over the past thirty years," Mr. Bristow told him. "He's also had to pull the data from Special Projects, our files on the Covenant, anything that we found that might be relevant."

"I think I have something," Marshall piped up at that instant. Vaughn and Sydney's father gathered around him. "Now I'd just like to emphasize that even though I may have converted some of the raw data, I have only the vaguest idea—"

"At this point, we'll take whatever we can get," Vaughn said.

"What I've gotten out of the first few pages appears to be a listing of events," Marshall told them. "As we know with a lot of Rimbaldi documents, that in itself isn't anything new. However, what's different is that this list doesn't seem to be part of a prophecy."

"What are you talking about?" Mr. Bristow asked.

"Short answer, in the prophecies there was a portmanteau from Latin and English that amounted to 'it is ordained'. That phrase is in none of the lists," Marshall paused. "What I am seeing over and over is another phrase that amounts to 'if you can produce'".

"How is this significant?" Vaughn asked.

"The list of events is essentially everything that has happened today.," Marshall said simply. "The attack on the hospital, the Premier being killed, the riots in LA, the escalation towards war. In every case, all of them seem to lead to something bigger."

Kim, who had been quiet up until now, piped up. "So what you're telling us is that this isn't a foretelling so much as some kind of formula," she said. "But what happens if all these events are accomplished?"

Jack Bristow shot Kim Bauer a glance that made it clear he was surprised that Kim had managed to translate Marshall.

She replied with a dead plan look. "Just because I'm blond doesn't mean I'm stupid."

Now Marshall looked puzzled. "But that's just it," he said. "So far all I've been able to translate is more of this ultimate destruction talk that we've seen in almost every other prophecy. And if all this says is that nuclear war brings ultimate destruction, then this is the first time Rimbaldi hasn't seemed, you know, that awesome."

"There has to be more to it than that," Mr. Bristow said thoughtfully. "How much of the document remains encrypted?"

"A hit more than seventy percent," Marshall told them. "And before people start getting on me to do it faster, I don't think I can."

"Why?"

"These documents don't appear to all be from the same source," he told them. "Each of them seem to be translated to a different dialect. I can get bits and pieces from each page, but unless we can get some kind of universal translator, it's going to take a long time to make English out of this."

Just then, one of the phones near Marshall rang. Vaughn picked it up. "APO, Vaughn."

"It's Sydney," For the first time all day, Sydney was starting to sound a little rattled. "We've got another problem."

"If you're talking about the translation, we're well aware of the obstacles," Vaughn said.

"This is worse than a Rimbaldi prophecy,"

Something in his wife's tone worried Vaughn. "I'm going to put you on speaker. " As he did so, he asked again. "What did you find?"

"Hidden in all the Rimbaldi text was a smaller data file," Sydney said slowly. "Simple enough that I could isolate it myself. When I did I found a time and a location." Sydney paused. " 208 Willett Grove, before 8 PM."

"That's our address," Vaughn said numbly.

"They're after our daughter," Sydney said. "I don't know who or why, but they want Isabelle"

Vaughn felt a sudden surge of panic rise in his stomach. He desperately shifted his focus to action. "How long would it take you to get back there?" he asked.

"I'm thirty minutes away," Sydney told them. "Someone has to call CTU and LAPD, but if these people are involved with Rimbaldi, there's a very good chance they could be more determined than anyone else we've dealt with today. 'Cause right now, APO is a hell of a lot closer than I am."

"I'll get out there right now," Vaughn told them. "I'll contact Jack, and--"

"No!" Sydney almost shouted. "Jack is right in the middle of breaking Wang. He's also got his attention split worrying about Nadia; he can't be anymore distracted. We tell him when we're about to make a grab."

"You sure?' her father asked.

"We can't spread ourselves any thinner than we already are," she said grimly. "And Wang needs to be broken."

**7:26:48/7:26:49/7:26:50**

Sydney might have felt differently about telling Jack about what was going on, if she'd known how the interrogation of Wang was going..

He had decided that the best approach on the Scarlet Circle leader would be chemical, specifically the hyoscine-pentothal combination that had worked so well so quickly earlier in the day. He wasn't going to bullshit around either; Wang was getting the full dosage.

The problem was, Wang was made of sterner stuff. Two minutes ago, they had crossed the six cc barrier that was considered safe, and the terrorist hadn't said so much as boo. For that matter, based on the size of his body, Wang should have been in a barbiturate coma. He wasn't even close to unconscious.

"Wasting your time, little man," he said in an almost carefree whisper. "I'm not going to tell you shit!"

"You'll talk," Jack said with a confidence he didn't feel, "or I'll snuff you out myself."

"Better men have tried to break me," Wang said. "And you don't have the power to kill me, even if you wanted too."

There was some kind of self-assuredness in Wang's tone that Jack didn't like. "Hit him with another dose," he ordered Curtis.

"Jack, his stats are borderline," Curtis said. "Another two cc's and you'll probably kill him."

"If that's the case, how come he's still speaking to us?" Jack countered.

Curtis shook his head. "This prisoner is too important for us to fuck around with," he reminded him.

Jack was taking out another syringe and preparing to dose Wang himself, when this really registered. "Which stats are borderline?' he demanded. "If his blood pressure and pain receptors were really at the same levels we saw earlier, he shouldn't be able to so much as whisper, much less play these games."

"What do you want from me?' Curtis asked. "I'm not a doctor; I'm just telling you what the monitor's reading."

Jack looked at the monitors, which were indeed telling him that Wang should be on the verge of death.

"How are you doing this?' he demanded of Wang, not expecting an answer.

He was surprised when he got one -- of a sort. "I've been touched by God," Wang replied in a perfectly reasonable tone. "No agent of Satan will be able to hurt me."

Jack's natural reaction to this would have been that Wang was giving him a mindfuck, but he'd seen a lot of reasonable people-- and some out-and-out lunatics react just this way-- involving something else he'd been dealing with.

He was about to call Marshall, when he remembered that Sydney probably had him working the data file from the airport, which in its own way was at least as important as this interrogation. So he dialed CTU instead, hoping that he'd made the right bet.

"CTU, O'Brian."

"Chloe, this is Jack Bauer. Is Dixon still there?" he asked..

"I wouldn't bother him.. He's on the phone with representatives of the Chinese government, trying to convince them that Li Chen Wang needs to be in your custody rather than theirs." Chloe paused. "Please don't tell me you've killed him."

"Not yet," Jack said carefully. "When you were doing the background check on Scarlet Circle, did you find anything linking Wang to the Covenant?"

"No," Chloe said emphatically. "Believe me, Jack, if he was linked to Arvin Sloane, you'd be the first to know."

Jack hesitated. "This genetic virus that was developed in Defense; you find anything to link it to… Milo Rimbaldi?"

"Oh, God," Chloe said in exasperatedly. "You're not telling me that lunatic somehow foretold this goddamn mess were in?"

"Chloe."

"The last thing we need today is trying to solve a crime from the fifteenth century," she went on. "This isn't the damn _Da Vinci Code_."

"Didn't you bother to talk with the people at APO?" Jack asked forcefully

"No, they've got us busy preparing domestic response for the death of the Premier," Chloe said seriously. "We've already got one kind of race riot, now it's looking like civic disturbances are breaking out in Chinatown. LA could tear each other to shreds by sunrise."

This wasn't going to make Jack's job much easier. 'Tap into APO's files for Arvin Sloane," he told her "I'm guessing you can find a backdoor into them without breaking a sweat."

"Arvin Sloane is dead, and Milo Rimbaldi never did anything tied to the Chinese," Chloe asked. "What does this have to do with Wang?"

"I don't know," Jack said honestly. "But Wang is speaking a little too much like a believer to me. And if he knows something about Rimbaldi, the stakes may be higher than whether Los Angeles tears itself to ribbons."

**7:34:13/7:34:14/7:34:15/7:34:16**

Sydney was right about APO's numbers getting spread too thin. They needed Marshall to keep running tech support and to try and translate the data file, and Sydney's father was needed to handle operations.. So Vaughn's only choice for back-up right now was Kim Bauer.

Under other circumstances, Vaughn might have complained about having an agent who hadn't been out in the field in nearly a year, but the instant that Vaughn had heard his address mentioned, he had stopped thinking clearly. Jack Bristow had realized this, and hadn't even tried to stop Vaughn from going out on this mission without waiting for the LAPD or CTU. He knew that when your child was threatened, you did everything that was in your power to protect them.

Bristow Sr. had, however, instructed Kim to keep in touch with them in case there were any other developments anywhere.

They hadn't been out of APO less than three minutes when Kim's phone rang. She half-expected that it would be Sydney, telling them that she was en route. Instead, it was Marshall.

"Um, is there anyway that you can make this call a little more private?" Marshall asked hesitantly.

"Vaughn's in the driver's seat," Kim reminded Marshall. "There aren't a lot of place where I can hide."

"It's just that, if my kids were threatened, I'd be going bananas, so I've got a pretty good picture about how upset he is, but I've just found something out that may throw him into hyper-drive."

"We passed hyper about two exits back," Kim said carefully. "And I'm pretty sure he's got the pedal to the mettle already, so I don't think it can get worse. Just tell us what you got."

"All right. Remember how Sydney told us that she had tried to read a document, and all she got was gibberish?" Marshall reminded her. "Well, I've dug a little deeper into the document, and I think that it isn't gibberish."

"What is it?" Kim asked.

"It's combinations of four letters-- A, C, T and G. Any biologist in the world knows what those letters mean."

Kim blinked. Anyone who remembered high school biology knew what that meant. "In other words…"

"Adenine, guanine, thymine, and cytosine," Marshall said. "The four bases that make up DNA. These combinations are found reading through the document. I think that this is a genetic map, just like the one that we pulled out of Hobson Laboratories earlier today."

Before Kim could ask the next obvious question, Vaughn, who clearly got the possible implications of this, began trying to make the car go faster than the odometer.

"Vaughn, Vaughn!" Kim nearly shouted out. "You have to slow down!"

"Are you crazy?" Vaughn yelled. "You know what this means?"

"No, I don't, and neither do you," Kim said in a tone that she would not have been capable of maintaining even two years ago. "What I _do _know is that you're not going to do Isabelle any good, if you get us killed before we get to your house! So fucking slow down!"

Vaughn's expression didn't change, but he did ease off the gas a little. "Thank you," Kim whispered. "Marshall, how long do you think it'll be before you can finish running the same equations that you ran on Project Helix earlier?"

"First, I have to finish translating this document. Then I'll have to rewrite that program so that it can be refit for a Rimbaldi figures," Marshall did the mental arithmetic. "Four, five hours minimum."

'There's no way you can cut that?' Kim asked.

"Not unless I divert all of APO's resources to this, or piggyback the server off CTU's server, which right now would piss off a huge number of people given how thin resources are in general…"

He trailed off suddenly..

"Marshall?"

"Hold on a second. Someone's using a backdoor to look through your father's files on Rimbaldi."

"Don't tell me we're being hacked." Kim said disbelievingly.

"No, I think I know who's doing this. Give me a minute."

**7:41:42/7:41:43/7:41:44**

"I've gone through about half of the files," Chloe told Jack, "and so far, nothing has been flagged that gives any link between Sloane and anything connected with Scarlet Circle, much less a Rimbaldi connection between them."

"Try it from the other end," Jack told her. "See if there's anything in Wang's file that links him to any activity the Covenant or SD-6."

"I know I don't work at APO, which obviously makes me inferior, " Chloe reminded him, "but I'm far from a fool. I already double-checked it. Trust me, there's no link that way--"

Chloe was interrupted by a beep on her cell. "Hold on a second, I now have to explain to your tech support what I'm doing in your files," she said after reading the caller ID. "O'Brian, yes I am, Jack gave me permission to, why don't you talk to him yourself?"

Marshall had never had a warm relationship with CTU's tech support—a combination of her personality and that they were a little too alike for his comfort—and this delivery proved it. But his questions had been answered, and he did need to talk to his boss. "Put him through," he said wearily.

This time the pause was less than three seconds. "What is it, Marshall?" Jack asked.

"Is there a reason you didn't ask for my help going through our files?" he asked his boss.

"Because I think what Sydney pulled off the data drive is probably more important work at the moment," Jack said bluntly, "and despite your prodigious ability to multi-task, I didn't need your attention split that way until I actually had something."

"And do you actually have something?" Marshall asked. "Because we do, and CTU's actually in the position that they would be able to help us."

At that moment Chloe came back on the line. "I think I've got something," she told both of them. "Based off the information we got from some of our prisoners, I was able to trace Wang's movement. Ten months ago, Wang paid a series of visits to several former Soviet Republics attempting recruitments for Scarlet Circle. One of those locations was Croatia, where he met with Otto Van Illych, a former associate of Mackennas Cole. Hey, isn't that the Quentin Tarantino wannabe?"

Jack winced, remembering the monster who referred to himself as "The Man"..."What did Wang get from him?" Jack asked.

"The information's is still hazy, " Chloe admitted. "but there maybe something significant. For every other stop on trip, we can link some current and former Scarlet Circle recruits. Van Illych provided him with nothing, but Wang met with him on three separate occasions."

"So maybe this something to do with Rimbaldi?" Marshall asked.

"I don't know. But seeing as Jack actually _has _Wang in front of him--"

"Chloe, I'm getting very tired of people telling me how to my job," Jack said warningly.

"Fine. I suppose you want to me to track Wang's movements before and after his trip to Croatia," Chloe said sullenly.

"That'd be nice," Jack said.

At this point Marshall, who had people on his back as well, spoke up again. "Um, Mr. Bauer, I realize that what you're doing is very important, but Mr. Bristow asked me to tell you two things."

"Go ahead."

"He says that representatives of China are coming to take Wang into custody in the next ten minutes regardless of anything you may learn from him."

"I'm aware of that," Jack said, annoyed.

"He also wanted to let you know that there was a situation developing because of this document, and we may have another person in custody very soon who can help us connect the dots," Marshall hesitated.

"Who?' Jack asked.

"We only know where he is, we don't know who," Marshall told him flatly. "And right now, considering the moods of the people coming to intercept him, we may be lucky to get him alive."

A bad idea was starting to form in Jack's head. "Did Anna escape?"

"No," Marshall said assuringly, "we've still got her."

"Then--"

"Jack, hurry back here," Marshall told him." 'Cause I have a feeling we're going to have more headaches pretty soon."

**7:49:30/7:49:31/7:49:32/7:49:33**

As devoted as they were to their jobs, Sydney and Vaughn had been even more cautious as most young parents when it came to protecting their child. The au pair they had hired had gone through a background check more thorough then those of government agencies give in selecting agents (though as all of them knew, that wasn't saying much.) They also had a very advanced security system protecting the house designed by some of their own people, and as Kim had double checked five minutes ago, no one had subverted it yet. However, none of this did much to ease Vaughn's nerves, and, as he pulled into the parking slot just a few feet away from where he and Sydney lived, he knew he wasn't going to be relaxed until he saw his baby sleeping, safely in its bed.

"We've just arrived," he told Sydney over the cell. "How far out are you?"

"I should be there in five minutes," his wife replied grimly. "Has there been any sign of forced entry?"

"Not according to Louise," Vaughn said as he began walking the rest of the way. "She said she'd call the police the second she hung up with me."

"I'm going around to check the back door," Kim told Michael as she drew her weapon.

Vaughn was about to give some kind of assent, when suddenly all the lights within the immediate radius of their neighborhood went out, leaving Vaughn blinking around in the gathering twilight.

Kim blinked. "Oh crap." She charged towards the back, cautious, but definitely hurried.

"The lights just went out for our entire block," he told Sydney. "This can't be a coincidence."

"Whoever these people are, they know exactly how our security system works," Sydney told him.

The security system that Marshall had helped design was wired so that if the power went out, the doors and windows would remain secure. However, it would still take twenty seconds for this system to reboot. Because of the outlying security structure, it would take the average burglar three to four times that long to drill a hole in either a door or a window. Marshall had designed this system so that known measures would not be sufficient to bypass it. The problem was that in their jobs, there always seemed to be someone coming around who had the techs to beat it.

Kim discovered that, when she reached the back door no more than ten seconds after the power had gone out, to find that one of the windows had been completely jimmied open.

Without even hesitating, she went through the same open window without waiting for backup. After waiting ten seconds for her eyes to acclimate to the darkness, she began to advance. Her pistol was raised ahead of her, cupped in one hand, held in a proper Weaver stance.

"Louise?" she whispered. "Louise, are you there?"

But there was no response from either the nanny or her charge. Hoping that Vaughn and Sydney would have the sense to proceed carefully while reentering their home, Kim made her way towards the nursery. She would have attached the gunlight to the barrel, or even used her own penlight, but carrying a light of any sort would only just serve to highlight her position, and paint a target on her chest.

The house was quiet, but it didn't seem to be an _unoccupied _quiet. However, she didn't see that something was wrong until she got to the doorway of the nursery to find a corpse. Trying to regulate the hurt to the back of her mind—Kim had liked Louise—she took a step.

"Don't come any further," came an icy voice tinged with a Russian accent.

The old Kim Bauer's knees would have turned to water when she heard that voice. For even though she had never actually been in the same room with her, she had listened to enough audio on her to know Irina Derevko's voice when she heard it.

Despite this, it still took a lot of nerve for her to look up and say, "Step out and put your hands where I can see them."

She wasn't terribly surprised when Irina did neither. "They keep recruiting people younger and younger," she said in an almost nostalgic tone. "Where'd they find you, middle school?"

Trying to mentally recall everything she had been taught, she took another step in the room.

There was the sound of a gun being cocked. "Another step, and I will kill this child," Irina warned.

"Really?'" Kim saw an advantage. "Because you've obviously gone to a lot of trouble to get her; I can't imagine you'd just blow her head off now. Your own granddaughter?"

"This child is important, to me and to the world. But make no mistake, I will end her life rather than let the wrong people get their hands on her."

This did chill Kim's blood a little. "And who exactly are the wrong people?" she whispered.

"You're not going to find out," came the voice again—this time, from right next to her as the cold muzzle of a pistol touched her neck. "As you say, drop your weapon."

Kim hesitated less than a second—not because of stubbornness or bravery, but because she wondered about whether dropping the gun would cause it to discharge into the baby's crib. But she had a Glock, and was angled slightly off, so she dropped it, and slowly moved her hands up in a submissive posture.

"That is a good little girl. Now, how many of you are there?"

Kim remained silent a moment before Irina said, "Wait...aren't you Jack Bauer's daughter?" She nudged Kim's skull with her pistol. "Do not trifle with me, girl. I know you, I know you are a pitiful child, and a brave front will not stop a bullet...not at this range. You have been kidnapped by Drazens, menaced by common hoodlums, and hidden in an office where Daddy can keep an eye on you. Now tell me—"

Kim twisted her body. Her left swept arm back, pushing Irina's gun off-line, and swung it down in a pendulum-like motion, trapping the gun arm between her arm and her body.

At the same time, as her entire body twisted toward Irina, Kim's right arm shot out, her palm catching Irina on the center of the temple. Before Irina could even laugh it off, Kim's hand clamped down on Irina's shoulder and the young Bauer pulled down, driving her knee up into Irina's body.

Kim reached around, grabbed the gun and twisted it out of Irina's grip, and clubbed straight down into Irina's head as she twisted away.

She stepped back from Irina and leveled the gun at her—it was apparently a full-blown Uzi submachinegun.

Irina wasn't anywhere near down yet. She charged Kim, pulling a knife for her—

And Kim fired on full automatic, straight into Irina's chest.

Bullet after bullet pounded into Derevko's body. The roar of the gun didn't come—the woman had put a sound suppressor on it—but the multiple impacts send her staggering back against the wall.

Despite all of this, Kim knew too much about the woman to assume it would be this easy...she was right, Irina had body armor on.

Kim wasn't certain what to do next when she detected a flash of light off the knife blade, and she ducked a split second before the blade cut through the air she had occupied. She rolled, and nearly cut Irina's legs out from under her. Kim nearly got away with her maneuver—she was much younger and faster than the elder spy—but Irina staggered to one side before Kim reached her.

The sudden resistance had surprised Irina, and being shot didn't help her recovery. Despite bouncing back from normal bullet strikes while armored, being hit with a full thirty-shot clip was like being repeatedly slammed with sheet metal moving at ten miles an hour.

So she was disoriented when Kim pushed off her feet to charge into Irina, and swung the gun into Irina's face.

The Russian spy fell back a few feet, and Kim moved in to try and knock her out cold.

This was a mistake of youth, and Derevko made her pay for it by kicking the gun out of her hand as she drew a pistol. Kim recoiled and assumed a modified Krav Maga pose as Irina was finding her feet again, and kicked Irina in the stomach. This only winded the Russian, but the combination of blows were sufficient to loosen her grip on her weapon. Kim kicked it under the crib, then jumped at Irina, who had taken this advantage to pull out yet another small blade and aim it at her neck. Kim grabbed her hand, and pushed as hard as she could away from her.

"When did you become an expert?" Irina asked as she fought with the younger woman, the two of them rolling around on the floor for the weapon.

Kim thrust her forehead against Irina's nose, not breaking it, but it hurt like hell. "I babysit for a paranoid mother named Sydney." Kim swung a knee into Irina's side. "My dad's girlfriend insists I need protection." She swung her other arm up, and drove her elbow into Irina's face. "And my father is Jack Bauer." And again. "Bitch!"

Just then the lights came on, and an alarm started blaring. Irina was distracted for a fraction of a second, long enough for Kim to apply enough pressure to get the knife out of her hand. "In here!" Kim shouted. "I managed to escape from the Drazens; why does everyone freaking forget that?" she mumbled

Both Vaughn and Sydney tore into the room. Sydney ran to her daughter; Michael to Kim. "What the fuck are you doing here?" Vaughn demanded of Irina.

"Why so harsh a tone?" Irina said weakly. "After all, we're family."

Kim got to her feet. "You have cuffs?" she asked

"With her, you'd need a straitjacket," Vaughn got on his radio. "Attention all units. The intruder is Irina Derveko; I want all units to secure this location, and then her!"

**7:59:57/7:59:58/7:59:59/8:00:00**


	15. 8:00 PM TO 9:00 PM

Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**The Following Takes Place Between 8:00 P.M. and 9:00 P.M.**

"I'm well aware of what this man has done," Jack told the Chinese envoy in as respectful a voice as he could manage, "but don't you understand that there are larger issues in play here?"

The representative of the Chinese, a stone-faced looking man named Cheng Zhi, fixed Jack Bauer with a cold look. "Mr. Bauer, the threat this man represents is only to your country. He is responsible for the murder of the _Chinese _premier. As far as I am concerned, there is no larger issue."

"You know as well as I do that Wang has not acted alone," Jack reminded Cheng. "His conspirators are still at large, and may well take the opportunity to strike against your nation."

"We have every intention of giving Wang a thorough interrogation." Cheng spoke with the confidence that came with thinking your country truly was the center of the world. "Whatever information we obtain regarding his co-conspirator we shall be certain to pass on to your nation's leaders...in due time. Now you gave your word that you would hand this man over to us within the hour. Your time is up."

On other occasions, the President might well be willing to back him, but right now, Palmer was dealing with deadlines that were even more pressing than Jack's.

Still he would have argued the point more, if his phone hadn't rang. "Bauer," he said sharply.

"Jack, drop whatever you're doing. We need you now," Vaughn told him without any screwing around.

He walked a few steps away from Cheng and Wang. "What have you found?" he asked in a quieter tone.

"The mother lode," Vaughn said bluntly.

"Meaning?"

"While going through the disk she got from the airport, Sydney found a separate data file that mentioned a meeting at our house at 8:00."

Jack wasn't sure he'd heard right before a horrible feeling overcame him. "Are you telling me that somebody went after Isabelle?" he asked.

"Someone almost got her, too," Vaughn paused. "Irina Derevko."

A horrible coldness-- half horror, half rage-- pervaded Jack's body. "You have her in custody?"

"Surrounded by every agent I could get my hands on," Vaughn said grimly. "but now that we know that she's involved, it's only a matter of time before every Division head with a pulse starts sticking their nose in." He swallowed. "We need to activate Operation Ice Maiden."

"Is Sydney there?" Jack asked bluntly.

"She knew about this meeting place before I did," Vaughn reminded him. "When she heard her daughter's life was danger, she broke all land-speed records to get there. Right now, she making sure that Isabelle is completely all right," Vaughn said. "I took the opportunity to make sure that Irina was loaded into a CTU vehicle, we're pulling out of our neighborhood now"

"Have you called Tony?" Jack asked.

"He's my next phone call," Vaughn told him. "How far out are you?"

"I'm the one with a helicopter," he reminded Vaughn. "I can be at CTU in ten minutes if I hand off Wang to the Chinese."

"What are you waiting for?"

"Do you need to ask?"

Vaughn winced inwardly. After working with Jack for almost two years, he knew that once Jack had his teeth into something, or someone, it was hard for him, or anyone else, to pry him loose. "It's not like the Chinese are going to send him to the Bahamas. Besides, if we get what we need out of Irina, we'll get the entire rat's nest."

Jack didn't need to argue this was a big 'if'. He also knew that this was, after all, his plan. "How long will it take you to get her to CTU?"

"We should be there in fifteen minutes."

He took one last look at the inscrutable Asian faces a few feet from. "All right," he said reluctantly. "But make sure Tony has everything prepared. We're only going to get one shot at this. We can't make any mistakes."

**8:07:09/8:07:10/8:07:11**

Despite everything that had happened to her over the past seven years, Sydney had never been able to understand how men like Jack Bauer and her own father could bury their own emotions so deep even when dealing with their own families. Now that she was a mother herself, she was beginning to understand the challenges they had to put themselves through. Because right now, her primary urge was to seriously hurt the person who had put Isabelle's life in jeopardy-- even though that person was her own mother.

Because she didn't trust the color of her soul right now, she had spent the last five minutes trying to reduce her daughter's anxiety. She knew that she'd have to face Irina very soon, and ask her a couple of the hardest questions she'd ever had to ask anyone, but right now, all she could handle was trying to rock Isabelle back to sleep.

"Is she all right?" Sydney looked up to see Kim had reentered the nursery.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Sydney said, only partially trying to make light of what had just happened.

"It's bruises and muscles pulls," Kim told her. "I'll be fine."

"I can see you've inherited your father's ability to make light of horrible situations, too." Sydney said, only half in jest.

A mournful look appeared on Kim's face. "It wasn't all him. M—mom was good at it, too."

Sydney knew that this was entering into territory Kim still wasn't comfortable with, so she modified her tone. "You fought one of the deadliest women in the world to at least a draw," she told her. "When your dad finds out that this happened, he's going to be more pissed at my mother than I am."

Kim Bauer had gone through so much in her short life that she had managed to build a pretty good game face. However, now that face was gone, and she seemed much younger than actually was. "I can't imagine what you must be going through right now," she told Sydney sadly.

"I've heard of the horrible things that my mother did during her life," Sydney said, determinedly focusing her attention on Isabelle, "God knows that I've seen more than a few. But even given all the horrible things that she's done, I didn't think she would have in her to-- hurt her own granddaughter."

"I was there, Syd," Kim told her, "and even having gone through it, I'm having a hard time dealing with it myself. This has to do with more Rimbaldi shit again?"

"Hell if I know," Syd admitted. "For some reason I'm still not sure that I can fathom, Rimbaldi seems to be embedded into my DNA. Me, Nadia, Irina-- somehow we've got some genetic link to this technology. Academically, I can believe that it's possible Isabelle has something to do with it, too, but still…"

She finally put her baby back in the crib. "If Sloane were still alive, I could see him going after my daughter. The man considered his own flesh and blood little more than a science experiment, even after he got to know her. But Irina-- Irina was willing to give up her freedom to help protect her daughters from these prophecies. I find it difficult to believe--"

"Harder than the evidence of your own eyes?' Kim countered "She killed Louise, she tried to kill me. What further evidence do you need?"

"There's definitely more to this. Irina was always a proponent of two things: the bigger picture and her own self-interest." Sydney shook her head "I don't suppose that she's said anything either to you or Michael."

For the first time, Kim seemed a little uncomfortable. "That's one of the reasons I came to check up on you, " she told her friend. " A few minutes ago, Vaughn took your mother into custody for interrogation"

"Where?"

"That's just it. When I asked him why, he refused to tell me, and ordered me not to tell you."

"Great," Sydney said sarcastically. "Now someone at Division knows and wants to make sure no one named Bristow is anywhere near the woman."

"They've found out awfully quick.," Kim pointed out

"Then maybe Vaughn's more pissed off, and wants to handle this without APO getting dirty," Sydney looked at her watch. "CTU's less than fifteen minutes out. If they're serious about going after Irina hard, that's where'd they do it."

She very gently picked up Isabelle. "I think this is one of those occasions where bringing your daughter to work might be acceptable," she told her. "Would you mind holding on to her until we get there? I know, it's pretty lame regulating you to babysitting duty after what you just did, but…."

"If I were in your place, I'm probably be doing the same thing," Kim said. "...Actually, I'd be giving her to someone who owns a tank. But are you sure it's safe to be taking Isabelle to the same place they're holding Irina?"

"Right now, the last thing Irina needs to be concerned about is getting anywhere my daughter again."

**8:15:39/8:15:40/8:15:41/8:15:41/8:15:42**

"The outlook is overall very positive," the CTU doctor was telling Dixon. "And given who her sister is, I imagine she's going to be making all kinds of noise as to what she can do to help you. Do everything you can to urge Nadia not to."

"I'll try, but you're right about her psychological makeup," Dixon reminded him. "Bristow women have a really stubborn streak. But I'll do my best."

As Dixon walked into the medical care center, he didn't even have to look that hard to find Nadia. She was arguing with an orderly about the placement of her IV.

"You need to be careful with your fluid intake right now, Miss Santos," the unfortunate medico was saying.

"Fine," Nadia said in a somewhat raspy voice. "Then get me a goddamn glass of water. I don't want another goddamn tube stuck anywhere near me."

Dixon's initial sense of amusement at the scene faded as he recollected that one of Nadia's most unpleasant experiences in intelligence had been being dosed to the gills with some kind of Rimbaldi fluid. "Doctor, doesn't the fact that she's speaking indicate she could probably handle fluids by mouth?" he asked quietly

"She shouldn't really be exercising her vocal--" A look at Nadia's expression told the doctor it was best not to argue. "Rick, could you get Miss Santos some ice chips?" The orderly nodded gratefully and walked off. He looked at his patient. "I was going to remind Dixon not to agitate you, but I can tell right now that's going to be a fait accompli. Just keep in mind you got out of surgery less ninety minutes ago."

"Trust me, doctor, I've had problems with sickbeds long before I became a patient," Nadia told him.

Rick the orderly came back with a plastic cups. "Can I be trusted to put these in my mouth of my own volition?" Nadia asked, only half in jest.

As the medical staff walked off, Nadia put a modest amount of ice in her mouth. "Please tell me that Anna's is in custody," she asked.

Dixon nodded. "We have Anna, we have Wang. At the moment, Wang's being handed over to the Chinese."

Nadia did not do a spit take, but it was clear that she was pretty pissed. She finished the ice, took a breath, and surprisingly, smiled. "Good...we're not allowed to do the things to him that they'll do in China. And unlike Anna, he probably won't be allowed to live long enough to escape."

"True. I'm pretty sure China's not going to throw a parade in Tianemmen Square for what's he done...Unfortunately, that qualifies as the g_ood _news."

"We didn't have to give Anna a deal, did we?" Nadia was started to get worked up.

"No, we found evidence on Anna that led us to a computer disk. On this data file were a series of readings and projections that referred to--"

Dixon stopped because Nadia's already pale face was starting to whiten. "Nadia, should I call the doctor back?"

"I'm okay," Nadia told him. "It's just I have a pretty good idea what you're going to tell me. Given our luck, the virus has to be a Rimbaldi device again."

"I'm not crazy about it either," he admitted.

"What did you find on it? Another doomsday prophecy?" Nadia asked, trying to keep it light.

"Marshall's still translating it," Dixon admitted. "That's actually one of the reasons I'm here. He's managed to translate bits and pieces of the document, but he says he's going to take him more time, which as you well know, we don't have. We need an expert in Rimbaldi to go through this document. And since at one point, you supposedly had his soul flowing through you, or some bullshit like that--"

"It's not bullshit, Marcus," Nadia said wearily. "And even that was a long time ago. You must be pretty desperate if you're turning to me for help."

"I'd prefer the term expediency, but yeah, that's what were asking" Dixon hesitated. "We may have another lead, but we'd prefer not to use it unless we absolutely have to."

"What lead?"

Dixon chose not answer that question. "If you think you can handle it, Chloe will set you up with another server from APO.," he said instead.

Nadia's eyes narrowed. "What aren't you telling me?"

Dixon sighed. "Something else was on the hard drive. Sydney's address and a certain time. Half an hour ago, Vaughn and Kim captured a suspect who was attempting to abduct Isabelle."

Nadia, who was just starting to stand up, sat back down on her bed. "Is Isabelle all right?" she asked breathlessly.

"She's fine."

"Great. I guess my hopes that my niece would be able to live in a world without this kind of shit were worthless," Nadia muttered. "Did we catch whoever this?"

Once again, Dixon deliberately hesitated. "That individual's now in custody."

Nadia hadn't thought it was possible to get more upset. "Individual?" she said angrily. "Why aren't you just telling me? Is it my mother? Another aunt? Or has my father returned from the grave."

Just then, Dixon's phone rang. "Dixon."

"We're bringing her in now," Vaughn told him. "Jack's getting the room prepped."

Dixon walked a few steps away. "He knows that Nadia's in the building?"

"He admits it's not the ideal situation, but he doesn't think we can spare any more time handholding," Vaughn countered. " With anyone."

"He still wants to handle it this way?"

"His exact words were: 'I'm done playing footsie with this bitch.'"

"All right."

When Dixon hung up, Nadia had managed to walk right into his face. "Marcus, stop the cloak and dagger bullshit, and tell me who the fuck tried to hurt Isabelle?"

Dixon knew the plan, but he didn't like lying to his friend. So he told a partial truth. "You have a good idea who it is."

**8:24:54/8:24:55/8:24:56**

Because of the major efforts the unit was leading with domestic response throughout the city, CTU didn't come close to a stop when Irina Derevko was brought in, surrounded by what appeared to be a small army around her. Still, when the most dangerous woman on the watch-list walked past people's desks, there were more than a few people who stood at their desks to see the woman walk past.

Waiting at interrogation room 1 were Tony and Jack Bauer, who had arrived a few minutes earlier.

"Has she said anything?' he asked Vaughn, as he came up behind the entourage.

"She said that she would explain, but only to her daughters," Vaughn said grimly.

"Get her in there, and make sure she's properly restrained," Jack ordered. "Nobody lays a finger on her until I'm in there."

"You've explained to Division what's going to happen?" Vaughn asked, as the guards followed their orders.

"They're pissed as hell, but given who approved this little venture, they aren't going raise any objections, on or off the record," Tony told them. "Still, right now, their reactions aren't the ones that trouble me."

Jack follows Vaughn's gaze to see literally the last person he had wanted to talk to before he did what he was going to do: Nadia , barely dressed, pale as a ghost, but shaking with anger.

"You want me to handle this?' Vaughn asked. "I'm already going to be taking brickbats from Sydney when she pops up; I don't mind taking yours too."

"Thanks but no," Jack said grimly. "I authorized this; I'm the one who has to explain it to Nadia."

As he walked forward, he silently cursed Irina again. He was laying eyes on his future wife for the first time since her injury, and he couldn't celebrate that she was up and as feisty as ever. Hell, this would have been easier if she was still unconscious.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?' Nadia demanded as she walked up to Jack. "You bring my mother here, and you order me barred from the interrogation?"

Nadia was being blunt; Jack decided not to mince words. "I take it Dixon told you that your mother went to your sisters house, killed their babysitter, and tried to kidnap your niece?"

This did slow Nadia down a little. "I realize that she's done something unforgivable," she tried again "Unforgivable things are what Derevkos do, but it doesn't change the fact that you are not adequately prepare to interrogate Irina."

"Why? Because I'm not related to her by blood?" Jack asked. "I've dealt with this woman before; I've read the transcripts from her earlier jaunts in captivity. Irina Derevko is one of the most manipulative hostiles in history. We know this, and yet somehow every time, she inspires the people who should know this best-- people like your sister, or Jack Bristow-- into giving her what she wants. The government can not afford to make any more deals with Irina, no matter what the stakes are. And that means that you or Sydney can't be allowed anywhere near her."

Nadia was starting to breathe hard-- whether in anger or in pain, Jack wasn't sure. "So you and Vaughn and the higher ups at CTU go behind our backs, and you arrange the equivalent of an agency –wide restraining order against us, instead of telling us outright?" she asked angrily.

"Right now, you are living proof that we were absolutely right to have that order issued," Jack countered. "You haven't even laid eyes on her, and she's already playing her head games on you."

Nadia still couldn't accept this. "I don't want to go over your head, Jack, but if I have to go to those assholes with Division--"

"This project has been authorized by President Palmer," Jack told her gently. "You have no other recourse for appeals."

That finally shut up Nadia.

Jack turned to Tony. "Make sure the observation room is sealed off, and armed guards are posted outside," he told him. "After I go in, nobody else does shit until you hear from me."

Tony nodded.

"I can't believe it's come to this," Vaughn almost whispered.

"As long as that woman was running free, this moment was inevitable," Jack told his friend.

"Then you had fucking better get what we need."

Jack didn't answer; he just walked into the room.

**8:32:26/8:32:27/8:32:28/8:32:29**

Jack looked at the three men who were still watching Irina., who was chained to a chair that was bolted to the floor. "Are the cameras off?" he asked one of the guards. After getting a nod of acknowledgment, he said: "Leave us."

"Sir, are you—" one guard started.

"Go," Jack said in a tone that left no room for refusal.

The instant the guard was gone, Irina faced Jack. "So now it's down to me and thee," she began. "I must say I'm a little disappointed."

"Why?"

"I figured before we got started, you'd begin by showing me where my sister died," Irina said quietly.

"Since she died in the infirmary, you just might. But it wouldn't matter," Jack said in a deliberately neutral tone. "For that to work, that would mean you'd have to care for someone else, and you don't."

"So you're pissed at me, Jack," Irina told him. "Was it going after my granddaughter or the fact that I beat up your own flesh and blood that has made you so cold?"

Jack smiled evilly. "From what I heard, Kim was the one who did the beating." He made a deliberate study of a folder in front of him. "I knew that it was a mistake to let you walk away the last time we met," he told her, still not looking at her.

"You needed my help, Jack, and I'm practically family now," Irina reminded him.

"We had just saved you after being held in the ground for almost a year. Helping us because we saved you isn't compassion, and it doesn't negate a lifetime of bloodshed and treason," he said slowly. "The man you called your husband and the children you gave birth to should have known that better than anyone else, and yet you managed to pull the wool over all of their eyes again and again."

"We don't have a great deal of time, Mr. Bauer, you really want to waste it on the past?" Irina pointed out.

"Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it," Jack said. "A dull cliché, but one appropriate for our situation." He closed the file and faced Irina for the first time. "The United States government has realized now that it has completely mishandled your custody. What has happened today is literally the final nail in your coffin. From this point on, there will be no further negotiations with you."

Irina considered this. "So you're going to bring out the rack and the chemicals to try and find out what I know?" she said.

"I don't think you understand the gravity of this situation," Jack told her. 'You're right, we don't have time to play games, but we also don't have time to waste dealing with you one way or another. There's no time for a deal, no time for intensive interrogation. Simply put, there's no time. We need this _now_."

"So how do you intend to find out what I know, Jack?" Irina asked. "Because, believe me, it's important."

Jack didn't answer directly. " Irina Derveko, you have committed multiple acts of treason and murder against the United States. For these crimes, the sentence of death is to be carried out against you today."

Before she could even begin to react, Jack drew his weapon and fired into Irina's stomach. For the first time since he had known her, a look of genuine shock crossed her face. She gaped for a moment before the chair she was in tilted backwards, her with it.

Jack stood, calmly walked over to her, and put his foot on her stomach to put pressure on it. He dug in with his toe as he went down on now need beside her. He leaned in close and said in a deadly whisper, "Now, listen very carefully, because you don't have much time left. Based on the angle of the bullet, you've probably been hit in the renal vein, which means you've got at most ten minutes left to live. The deal is very simple: you tell me exactly what is behind today's attacks, who's controlling Sark, Anna Espinoza, and whoever else; you also tell me what exactly is on that data file you were supposed to pick up from the airport. You do that, I call in the doctors, they save your life."

"A shot -- like that -- I could die -- on the table…" Irina said, breathing very hard.

"Yes, you could," Jack said coldly..

"What about Nadia…." Irina argued. "You think she'll-- forgive you-- for killing me--"

"She forgave me for killing her father," Jack pointed out.

A smile Jack couldn't read appeared on Irina's face. "Wouldn't be-- too sure-- of that," she said.

There were two ways to read that statement; Jack decided not to waste time on either. "You've destroyed a lot of people in your life," he told her frankly. "This is collateral damage. If I have to weigh the love of your daughter against the good of the world, she knows which one I'd choose."

"Always the good soldier," Irina muttered. "You-- honestly telling me-- that you've got no problem—just letting me-- bleed to death-- knowing what I must know?"

Jack maintained a perfect poker face. "You're a monster, Irina. For more than thirty years, you've destroyed thousands of lives, showing loyalty to no one except yourself. You're a parasite, a shriveling little germ, and I have no problem inoculating the world against your disease."

A small trail of blood was forming outside Irina's mouth. "I'd tell you to go--to hell," she told him, "but I have-- a feeling-- I'll be seeing-- you there-- soon enough."

"That your final response?" Jack asked. Irina didn't answer. "So be it."

He walked towards the door, and had his hand on the knob, when Irina finally whispered "The virus isn't just a virus."

Jack turned to see Irina's whitening face "What does that mean?"

"The level that it was developed--at were to-- be used as-- a weapon, but if properly modified, and-- if it interact-- with the right-- combination-- of chemicals-- one out of every ten thousand people-- will develop -- a virtual immortality."

Jack didn't like the sound of this. "What kind of the chemicals?" he demanded

"The same kind-- that Arvin Sloane-- used to seed the-- water when he was-- in control-- of his foundation-- six years ago," Irina told him

"What are you telling me? That Sloane is plotting this from beyond the grave?"

Again that smile that Jack couldn't read. "In a manner-- of speaking--" Irina told him. "Sark and Espinoza -- have known -- about this -- project for years. They've been--positioned-- to help pull it off. If it works-- they obtain—eternal life."

This was bullshit that Jack was having a great deal of trouble believing. "How do you know all this?" he said in as level a tone as he could manage.

"The-- data file-- on the computer-- lists a series of instructions-- from Rimbaldi-- as to how-- to properly bring about-- his final solution."

"Where do I find Sark?"

"Scheduled -- rendezvous with him-- Stone Canyon Reservoir--9:30."

"One last thing" , Jack thought he knew the answer to this question, but he needed confirmation. " Whose genetic code is on the data file- that we found on the disk?"

"Don't know-- who exactly-- but it's someone with-- my gene pool. Could be Isabelle-- or Sydney -- or me," Irina's breathing was becoming even more labored.. "In any case, we-- had to have-- one of them-- to make-- sure it-- would work. The last passage of Rimbaldi-- calls for-- the sacrifice-- of the Passenger."

A very ugly but plausible idea was starting to go through Jack's mind. "What are you trying to say?" he demanded.

"That you might-- well-- have helped-- carry out-- what needed to be --done." Now there was a faint smile on Irina's face. "Thanks."

And even though Jack didn't believe for a second that this was true, he knew how he had no choice but to play this out. He got on the radio. "This is Bauer. I need a medical team to get Irina to the--'

Before he could even finish the sentence, the door burst open and Sydney and Nadia rushed in, with the medics running behind her.

"Mom! Mom!" Sydney was yelling, apparently having forgotten what had taken place less than an hour ago "Goddamn it, Jack! Uncuff her!"

Numbly Jack did, watching as Irina collapsed in a heap.

"I've got a weak femoral pulse," one of the medics said. "Pressure's barely there. We need to get her to the med unit now!"

As the medics lifted the traitor, and began carrying her out of the room, Jack found himself trying to find his beloved's eye.

"I don't want to hear it," Nadia said in an icy tone eerily similar to her mother's.

She and Sydney walked out without even looking at him.

**8:48:16/8:48:17/8:48:18/8:48:19**

Sydney and Nadia just outside the medical center when Kim walked in with Isabelle cradled in her arms.

"How's your mother doing?" she asked.

Nadia turned around first. "They got her pulse back, but she lost a lot of blood.," she said dully. "Plus there was no exit wound. They think it may have hit one of her ribs."

"Did your father send you in here to test our mood?" Sydney asked icily. "See if we'd be ready to go back to catch Sark"

"Actually, I came of my own volition," Kim told them both firmly. "And I brought Isabelle to remind you that the woman whose sickbed you seem to be staking out was willing to kill your daughter, and probably would have killed me had it not been for sheer luck."

"We're well aware of that," Sydney admitted, "but that doesn't change the fact--"

"Honestly, what has you pissed off more," Kim asked. "The fact that my father shot your mother, or that he went over your head to do it?"

For a long moment, no one spoke. "This job comes down to trust, Kim," Nadia finally said. "and your father should understand this better than anyone. Jack and Vaughn and half the people in this government seem to have conspired to handle a woman that Nadia and I may understand better than anyone else. And if the primary argument has been that we are too emotionally involved to keep from doing our jobs, might I remind you that's true about a lot of the people we've dealt with."

Kim considered this for a few seconds, then moved forward. "The government would have killed your mother anyway," she finally said.

"What are you talking about?" Sydney demanded

"I had a conversation with Vaughn a few minutes ago. Everything my dad said on that recording was true," Kim told them. "The government has had a termination order out on your mother since the last time she escaped their custody. Under any other circumstances, even _I _would have been authorized to shoot to kill "

'Then why are they working so hard to save her?"

"In case any of the information she has turns out to be more bullshit," Kim said. "The second that today's threat is averted, Irina will be transferred to Guantanamo. By boat." She paused for a moment. "There are sharks in those waters. When she 'accidentally' falls off, there probably won't even be a body. She'll never be seen again."

There was another long pause. "I don't understand how she has this hold over me," Sydney said. "She's tried to destroy everything in my life that I've held dear, hell, I wanted to kill her myself less than an hour ago, but the second I saw her on the floor all I could think was, 'He's killed my mother.'" She looked at Kim. "My father's put up this façade of indifference all my life, and most of the time, I've hated it, but there are times like this I wish I had his stoicism."

"All I ever wanted was to have parents who loved me. Instead…' Nadia trailed off. "Neither was better than a cold-heart killer, and I still wanted their love. I've known something like this was coming for years, and I just couldn't deal with it. I'm still not sure I can."

Kim considered this. "I wish we lived in a world where you could get your head wrapped around this," she told them. "But the truth is, we don't have the time. If Irina was telling the truth, which I realize is a big _if_, then we may be facing a crisis worse than the one we put down over a year ago. And right now, we need you to help stop it."

Sydney took her daughter from Kim. "Isabelle may still be in danger," she asked.

"They're going to need help coordinating tech support between here and APO," Kim told them. "I can keep an eye on her from here."

"And what if our mother makes another try at her?" Sydney managed a melancholy smile. "You really don't know what she's capable of."

"She's under anesthesia, in a secured operating room," Kim reminded her. "If all else fails, I'll shoot her again...and this time, she doesn't have Kevlar."

**8:55:09/8:55:10/8:55:11**

"Based on what I've managed to translate so far, Irina was only telling half the truth when she said that the Passenger had to be sacrificed," Marshall told them over the speakerphone.

"Half-truths are the only kinds this woman knows," Vaughn said bitterly.

"Which part?' Jack asked.

"There is definitely something in the data file about a blood sacrifice of the Passenger, and I'm sorry, but even with all the piggybacking I've been doing it's going to be at least another hour or two before I have the identity of the Passenger."

"In case you're all suffering from retroactive amnesia," Nadia said, as she and Sydney entered the room where the brain trust of both agencies had gathered, "_I _was the passenger, at least according to another batch of Rimbaldi documents."

"Nadia--"

"Not now, Jack," Nadia said coldly.

"You're assuming that the person whose genetics this match is _called _the passenger," Marshall continued. "I've finally gotten through about half this document, and I see no use of the word 'passenger'. 'Sacrifice', yes, not passenger."

"Then what part of what she told Jack was Irina lying about?" Tony demanded.

"There is talk of a sacrifice in order for this formula to be carried out, but it calls for 'the flowing of twin streams of water and blood." Now granted I'm not a Rimbaldi scholar, but it sounds like whoever's doing this needs to make this sacrifice over some body of water like the Pacific or the Harbor or--"

"Or Stone Canyon Reservoir," Jack finished grimly.

"Maybe," Sydney admitted. "But if Irina really was supposed to be a sacrifice, I have extreme doubt that she would just march off there, if there was a possibility that she'd have to die."

"What do you think she was bringing Isabelle for?" Vaughn countered. "A Grandmother-granddaughter bonding trip?"

"Right now, I don't think it matters who or if there was going to be some kind of blood-spilling," Jack argued. "Irina said she was going to meet with Sark there in a little more than half an hour."

"So now you're convinced of her veracity?" Nadia countered with some bitterness. "If she was lying about the sacrifice, there's no reason to assume anything else she said was anything other than bullshit."

"Maybe, but right now, this meeting is our only lead on Sark," Mr. Bristow reminded them over the speakerphone, "and we've barely got enough time to work out a scenario for it."

"Wang didn't give you anything on Sark?" Sydney asked Jack.

"The most that I managed to get from him was that Scarlet Circle got promises of a 'bonus' beyond money or power if they managed to pull off this operation," Jack told them. "Damned if I know what that offer could be, but it was enough to keep Wang's mouth shut."

On a freighter bearing Chinese flags just outside the Los Angeles Harbor, Cheng was finishing his conversation with his masters.

"Has he told you or the Americans anything yet?" one asked over the phone.

"Not so far," Cheng admitted, "but we've only begun our work. If we don't get the information out of him, our people in Siberia surely will."

"The Americans didn't work him hard enough?"

"They don't have the will to dispense justice properly," Cheng told them disdainfully.

Cheng might not have sounded so arrogant if he had gotten a good look at Li Chen Wang at the moment. Otherwise, he might have observed that the scars and bruises that Jack had managed to leave over his bodies were slowly beginning to fade and scab over. Or that cuts and scars they'd delivered to him weren't bleeding nearly as fast as they should of.

Or the inappropriate predatory grin that was forming on Wang's face.

**8:59:57/8:59:58/8:59:59/9:00:00**

..


	16. 9:00 PM TO 10:00 PM

Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

**The Following Takes Place Between 9:00 P.M. and 10:00 P.M.**

Jack looked around the CTU conference room and was half expecting it to be standing room only. Sydney and Nadia were at the far end of the room—away from him and close to the door, which didn't exactly bode well for his relationship. Michael stood next to Sydney as a matter of course, even though the two of them didn't work at the same location anymore. Tony and Dixon were on either side of Jack had he the time, he would have thought that this was a bad start to the planning session.

"Assuming Irina is telling the truth, we still need to grab Sark," Jack began. "Holding onto him is...frustrating."

"Irina was planning to meet with him in thirty minutes," Sydney said thoughtfully, "I say that we make sure that she keeps that appointment."

"Considering that your mother is currently undergoing major surgery, that's going to be a little hard to pull off, isn't it?" Dixon asked.

Sydney didn't answer, she just looked at her husband.

"You're thinking about when we had him in the holding cell three years ago, aren't you?" Vaughn asked rhetorically.

"Sark's already demonstrated that he's willing to blind himself to what should have been an obvious deception," Sydney reminded him. "And we have the means and the magic to pull it off again."

Jack watched the two of them talk, until he finally had to ask, "Would someone mind telling me what you're talking about?"

"Three years ago, my ex-wife Lauren Reed—a double agent Nina Myers could have taken lessons from—impersonated Sydney in order to obtain information regarding a Rimbaldi document, and to frame Sydney for another of her acts of treason," Vaughn tried to sound neutral, those who had been around him at the time had a pretty good idea of how big a number Lauren had done on his head. "She used a modified flesh mask and voice box to clear security. "

"She was scheduled to rendezvous with Sark a few hours later, but we managed to get Sark in custody before than," Sydney continued. "After conventional methods of interrogation failed, I used similar technology to impersonate Lauren, and to pretend that we had managed to apprehend her. It took us less than five minutes to get what we needed out of him."

Tony merely arched a brow, then shifted in his chair. "I take it this _is_ a roundabout way of telling us that you have similar material for your mother either here or at APO," Tony reasoned out.

"I helped design it myself," Marshall's voice said from the speaker phone, in a tone that lacked his usual panache. "There was a situation about a year and a half when I thought we might need to use a version of it for, ah, Sydney's father-- we were trying to save him from radiation poisoning, long story, happy ending-- but it turned out, it was never really necessary to use it." He paused. "Until now."

"You could have it prepped and ready in less than ten minutes," Jack asked.

"I can be out the door with it in five," Marshall said with some vigor.

"No," Mr. Bristow said. "We need you to finish deciphering the Rimbaldi material we got of the disk, particularly who that genetic file belongs to. How long will it take to get out there?"

Sydney glanced at her watch. "If we leave now, less than fifteen minutes. We'd be cutting it close, but given the circumstances, I'm thinking Sark will be willing to wait."

"How much backup are you going to bring?" Jack asked.

Sydney had already given this some thought. "One team, heavily armed, with you and Vaughn to run point. I don't think we'll need the firepower-- Sark has demonstrated that he's willing to roll over on anyone if it keeps him alive-- but I don't think that he'll be alone. We need to be ready for anything."

Nadia looked at her sister, eyes narrowed. "Is there a reason you are not asking me to this party?"

Jack leaned forward, looking at his fiancée with a glance that was either pure rage, or intense concern. "Because you should still be in a hospital bed. Tou came out of surgery less than two hours ago."

Nadia looked at her sister.

"This time I happen to agree with him," Sydney said almost apologetically. "Normally, I'd be asking you to be the one wearing the mask—you resemble Irina a lot better than I do—but you just took a knife to the chest. If Sark does suspect something, there's a much better chance that he could take you than he could me, even with the team."

"Besides, right now, we still need you to help translate what's in that data file," Dixon added.

Nadia glanced around, seeing that everyone was against her. She wasn't going to be heading anywhere that these five didn't want her to, unless she was willing to fight her way to it, and not even she could possibly get away with that.

For a tense moment, everyone wondered if Nadia was going to argue. Instead she managed a sickly looking smile. "Who am I to protest the will of the majority?' she mumbled. "After all, you clearly knew what you were doing when you decided to handle my mother."

"Nadia--" Jack began.

"You don't have time to apologize, and I am not yet ready to accept it," Nadia told him. "Just get Sark, and figure out who the fuck is manipulating all of us. I'm getting goddamn tired of feeling like a marionette."

Before anyone else could speak, Nadia had left the room, heading back to the station Michelle had set up for her a little more than an hour ago.

"Is she going to be all right?" Tony asked.

"Does it matter?" Sydney countered with a bit more cruelty in her voice then she had intended. "Time is getting very fucking short, and we can't waste it hand-holding."

"Sydney's right," Jack said, pushing the situation out of his mind. "We need to be prepped and out the door in less than five minutes if we're going to pull this off."

"You still haven't told us how we're going to handle Irina if and when she comes out of surgery," Dixon asked as the others headed out.

"Armed guards around the surgical units at all time," Jack said. "Doctors say it'll probably be at least an hour and a half before they'll be finished. The second that she can be revived, we're doing it. I don't believe for a moment she's told us everything that she knows, and we need to find out what that is before we ship her ass anywhere."

"And Nadia?'

Jack didn't hesitate. "Don't let her anywhere near her mother," he said coolly "This woman has the ability to plague us even when she's dying; I'm not having her play any more games."

**9:09:31/9:09:32/9:09:33**

Vaughn had been waiting for some kind of explosion from his wife ever since he had told her that she was being ordered from seeing her mother, but Sydney had been eerily quiet since then. Now as they began to arm themselves, Sydney finally spoke directly to him.

"How big was your part in getting this executive order created?" she asked in a dull tone

"It was primarily Jack's idea," Vaughn grudgingly admitted, "but when he came forward with it, I didn't shy away from supporting it."

"And you didn't think that I'd have any objections?" Sydney asked., sounding a little angrier.

Vaughn put down the assault rifle he was holding and turned towards her. "How many times has she tried to kill you? Or your father? Fuck, an hour ago she was willing to murder our daughter! I know she's your mother, and that she's always going to have this hold on you, but how many more people have to die before you accept what she is?"

"You're not exactly unprejudiced, Michael."

Vaughn's eyes widened. "_You're _going to lecture _me _on having a bias towards an enemy agent? She murdered my father...as part of a killing spree eliminating dozens of other agents. Given all the nightmares, she and her family have put us through--" He stopped. "Do you know how hard it was for me to have the person who murdered someone you care about more than anything at my mercy at last, and not being able to pull the trigger?"

And because Sydney _had _been in this position more times than she could count, she relented a little. "I don't know why I'm not more angry at her," she told Vaughn slowly "She's put us through so many hurdles, done so much violence. Christ, if you'd asked me just an hour ago, I would've been willing to tear her limb from limb." She stopped checking her Glock for a moment. "I just want to get away from all this."

"Go off to that island together?" Vaughn asked, referring to an old dream he raised with Sydney more than once after they'd gotten married. "I'd like that, too. Thing is, I don't think that's in either one of us."

"What do you mean?"

"I think we're both more like Jack Bauer than either of us want to admit," Vaughn said. "We can say that all we want is a normal life, but there's something in our blood that keeps us this in the middle of this game, no matter what the cost "

Sydney looked at Jack, who was coming towards him. "I'm not sure that he'd say that it was worth it," she reminded Vaughn. "In fact, right now I think he'd say that the price is too high."

"Helicopter's ready," Jack told them. "Rest of our teams prepped."

"Then let's go," Sydney said.

As they walked off, Vaughn looked at Sydney. "We okay?" he asked, sounding a bit more forlorn than he wanted, too.

"Not now," Sydney told him before taking his hand, "but I think we will be."

**9:14:55/9:14:56/9:14:57/9:14:58**

Nadia didn't know whether Dixon had been honest about her being able to help translate the Rimbaldi data or whether it was more busy work to keep her from forcing her way onto the mission to grab Sark. Either way, it wasn't seeming to make much difference because she was having a lot of difficulty concentrating on the letters and symbols that were in front of her.

"You getting anywhere?" Nadia looked up to see Michelle walking towards her.

"Where the hell have you been?" Nadia asked, only partly in jest.

"Supervising domestic response," Michelle told her, sliding onto the top of Nadia's desk, making herself comfortable. " Since the news of the Premier's death, there have been a lot of report of white-on-Asian violence, particularly in Chinatown, but even in Little Tokyo."

"I guess to bigots all people with yellow skin bleed the same," Nadia said bitterly.

"We've also heard a lot of chatter from white supremacist groups throughout the state of California who are using this as this as an excuse to bring out the whole laundry list about how everything this President has ever done before and after the last twelve hours is a clear sign for armed insurrection."

Nadia rolled her eyes. "This just the usual bullshit chatter, or is there anything real behind it?"

"We're not sure," Michelle admitted. "And right now our resources are being stretched to the point that we won't be able to police California more much longer." She lowered her voice. "There is some talk in the government that President may have to order a state of martial law very soon, not just here, but across the country."

Nadia wasn't thinking about her mother any more. "If Sydney and Jack do bring back Sark in their mission, will this do anything to put the pin back in the grenade?" she asked.

"Honestly, I don't know." Suddenly Michelle sounded very tired. "It might get the Chinese off our backs, but there have been race incidents of escalating magnitude all across the country over the past eight hours. What we saw earlier today in Inglewood could be repeated tenfold across the nation."

"Christ," Nadia said solemnly

Michelle paused. "I guess you can understand why a lot of people at Division are kind of pissed when Tony devoted agency resources to translating some document that's over five hundred years old," she said. "As much as I hate to admit it, I kind of see their point."

"Put that way," Nadia admitted, "I'd have a lot of trouble justifying it, too."

"Then why are people-- why are you-- doing it?"

"Because I've had too much experience to disregard Rimbaldi. If he has anything to do with what's going on today, there's something a lot bigger involved."

"I admit, exterminating more than 99 percent of the population seems like a big thing," Michelle told her, "but we've been facing this kind of option all day, and it hasn't changed any part of our game plan. Beside, from what Sydney has told me about Rimbaldi, apocalyptic prophecies are nothing new."

"I don't think it's a matter of _what's _involved, I think it has to do with _who,_" Nadia said. thoughtfully "There have only been a select number of the people who know about Rimbaldi and his works. Until today I wouldn't have believed that a relatively low level terrorist leader like Wang would have been one of those people. Now Jack tells us he knew something about it. Which means that there may have been more behind today's attacks than just sectional and racial destruction."

"What could possibly be any bigger than what's going on now?" Michelle asked disbelievingly.

"More things than heaven and earth, Michelle," Nadia said. "And there aren't a lot of people in this business who believe in that, either." She focused her attention on that.. "Which is why I really thinking we need to know who Sark is working for."

**9:21:16/9:21:17/9:21:18**

Located to the north of Bel Air and Beverly Hills, Stone Canyon Reservoir wasn't exactly in the middle of nowhere. While this would make it easier to find a place to set up out of sight, it made it a lot more difficult to find a place to land the CTU helicopter. They finally touched down on a relatively isolated stretch of highway about a mile from the location

"How exactly are we going to play this?" Jack yelled over the rotors.

"I'm going in alone," Sydney told them. "We don't know how much firepower Sark is bringing with him, but I think it's pretty safe to assume he'll have somebody doing some kind of surveillance. First sign of trouble he'll run, no matter how much he needs to meet with my mother."

Knowing what they did about Sark's character, neither Jack or Vaughn was inclined to disagree. "Then when do you want us to grab him?" Vaughn asked.

"First I want to find out as much as I can about what he and Irina are here for," Sydney said.

"But we don't know all that Irina knows," Jack reminded her. "And we already know it doesn't take much to get his wind up."

"We know that it has something to do with Isabelle," Vaughn countered. "And that somehow her--" he stumbled over the next word, "sacrifice might bring about the end times."

"You're not telling me that Sark actually buys into this Armageddon bullshit?" Jack asked.

"He believed in it enough to follow Sloane for years." Everybody looked around to see that Sydney's father had arrived. "In all likelihood, you're right. He's probably been told that this was to be solely for immortality, or something for his own benefit. Obviously, he's invested enough resources into it today to seem like he's bought into it now."

"You have what we need?" Sydney asked.

Jack Bristow produced a small black briefcase. "Marshall was able to translate a little more of the data file."

"Did he find anything to verify what Irina told us?" Jack asked.

"He's found repeated references of the Italian word for 'decimation'" Mr. Bristow told them as he opened the case and began to take out the material. "Supposedly one part of the document reads, 'only through an ocean of blood will the new race begin to walk."

"That sounds more like it's out of Exodus than anything Milo Rimbaldi ever came up with," Sydney said as she reached for the mask that she would need.

"There a set of guideline as to what kind of reference a prophet can use for his writings?" Vaughn asked ironically. "I'm more impressed that it sounds like what Irina was talking about in her interrogation."

"We're really talking about this," Jack said disbelievingly. "All of this bloodshed and high treason is just so that a handful of people can gain immortality?"

"You have a better explanation as to why Wang and Sark and whoever else have orchestrated all this?" Mr. Bristow countered.. "Because bringing about the apocalypse doesn't fit either of their MOs."

And because Jack Bauer was having a hard time coming with a suitable explanation for the massive carnage those two had wrought, he turned his attention back to the matter at hand. "Assuming that Irina believes all this, how much of this do you think that you'll need to convince Sark that you're her?" he asked

Vaughn took something from his pocket and handed it to Sydney. "This is Irina's cell. I took it off her when I took her into custody. Knowing Sark, any minute now he's going to call and give some kind of instructions But we know the way he thinks. If Irina tells him to make some kind of alteration in their plan, he'll do it."

."I take it you have one in mind?"

At that moment the call began to ring. "You ready?" Vaughn asked Sydney.

Sydney took the phone. "Yes?" she said in a voice that was eerily close to Irina's.

"Do you have what we need?" Sark said.

"That's a pretty blasé way to refer to my granddaughter," Sydney said as Irina.

"You didn't seem to mind that when we discussed it before."

"You didn't go through what I did in order to get her," Sydney countered in a voice that was just off enough that it might arouse suspicion.

"Now is hardly the best time to have doubts, Irina," Sark said in that frustratingly calm voice Sydney had come to loathe.

"Where do you want to meet?"

"The overpass near the top of the dam," Sark said. "Five minutes."

Sydney knew that they might have vulnerabilities to set up there. "How do I know you won't kill me the second I'm standing over the reservoir?" she asked.

There was a pause. "So you've decoded the gene cluster," Sark said.

"I know enough to know that somebody's going to have to die. I'm just trying to make sure that you don't do it until I get what I'm owed.."

Another pause, this one long enough to make Sydney wonder if she'd pushed too hard. "How would you like me to demonstrate my sincerity?" Sark finally asked.

"We meet at the bridge in _front_ of the reservoir," Irina said. "And you call off whatever snipers you've got guarding you."

"All right. But now you only have four minutes to get there." With that Sark terminated the call.

"Get the team into position," Sydney instructed in her normal voice. Jack had almost forgotten how good a mimic she was.

"You really intend to string Sark along?" Vaughn asked. "As soon as we apply the right pressure on him, he'll sing."

"That Sark didn't have immortality being dangled in front of him," Sydney said, as she straightened the mask on her face. "Besides, you always get more information from him voluntarily than with any kind of force."

"Don't fuck around," Jack told her. "You find yourself in trouble, give the signal."

"The hell he's put us through all these years and you think _he's _going to give_ me_ trouble?' Sydney shook her head.

"I do. Just remember, like Irina we need him alive. Not unhurt."

**9:31:45/9:31:46/9:31:47/9:31:48**

Sydney knew that despite what Sark had just told 'Irina', and even if he wasn't the top man on the totem pole, he would probably have at least a few mercenaries gathered around him, and at least one sniper around the perimeter of the reservoir. She had arrived at the rendezvous point on the bridge, when she detected movement around the edges.

She knew that Jack and her father would be positioning their team beyond the immediate radius. She hoped that Sark didn't have some kind of security capable of locating them, but then if Sark really had access to that kind of tech, they had been screwed before they arrived.

A silver Mercedes pulled up to the bridge. Two men armed with automatic weapons emerged from the back seats. Julian Sark emerged from the front. "Lovely night, wouldn't you say, Irina?"

"I told you to call off your dogs," 'Irina' angrily told him..

"So we're not even going to preserve the niceties?" Sark nodded to his men, each of whom took a position book-ending their master.

"We passed that point a long time ago, _luv," _Sydney slurred the last line deliberately.

"Given the way you've handled your partners and the family in the past, I would be a fool not to come unprotected," her nemesis said in that faux bonhomie Sydney had come to loathe. "If I could fit a tank in here, I'd be in it."

Sydney moved closer. "I only react violently when I feel I've been betrayed.," she told him.

"That's an interesting way to put things, considering that you don't seem to have the item we agreed upon."

"I'll remind you once again not to refer to Isabelle that way, at least while she's still alive." It took more than Sydney thought to deliver that last sentence in a level tone.

"How do I know you even have her?"

Sydney had prepared for this, and removed a small ribbon that she had taken from her daughter's hair. "I didn't get this at Toys R Us" she told him. "You don't get her until you tell me who the 'sacrifice' is."

Sark raised an eyebrow. "You don't know yet?"

"You know how complicated the human genome is," Sydney argued.. "Even with my knowledge of Rimbaldi, it could still take days to get the data translated. You would have me go to all this trouble if you didn't have a pretty good idea whose blood was going to have to be spilled. Now is it Isabelle?"

For a moment, Sydney wondered if she'd gone too far with that last sentence. Then Sark spoke. "Your granddaughter isn't big enough to have enough blood to spill," he told her. "There's another passage on the data file that you haven't translated yet. In order for the final solution to be realized, three generations of the Chosen One's bloodline must be intermixed in a great ocean "

"This immorality is worth a great deal if I'm to be killed for it," Sydney reminded him coldly.

"That would only be a problem if we needed to take all of it," Sark told her. "We only need to bleed all of you for a minute at the proper time in the right place. You'll be light-headed, but the immortality will make up for that quickly enough."

"And how exactly did you plan to bring my daughter?" Sydney said putting one hand behind her back. "You know how strong-willed she can be."

"We've got her daughter now," Sark said almost blandly. "You wouldn't know this, but having your child's life threatened can be a very powerful motivator."

Sydney badly wanted to beat the cruel tone out of Sark for that last line a lone. Instead, she spread out two of her fingers in a v-shape. "And I suppose that's your next phone call?" she said as calmly as she could manage.

"Actually, I thought I'd leave that particular task to you," Sark said, walking back towards the car, taking out his phone. "I've got a more important call to make."

A split second before Sark reached his car, rifle file broke out. Before the two men who were guarding Sark could fully react, they were taken out by sniper fire. Sark dove out of sight

Sydney dropped into a crouch, pulled her P7 from her belt, activated her earpiece and rolled around, trying desperately to locate her nemesis.

"Sark's body men are down," she said slowly. "Do you have a twenty on him?"

"Last I saw him, he was on the far side of the vehicle," Jack told her.

Sydney was about ten feet away from the car when Jack yelled: "Syd, hit the deck!"

Her nose had just begun to smell gasoline moments before she hit the ground. Two seconds later the Mercedes exploded.

"Fuck!" Sydney yelled.. "Whoever's in position, Sark is headed back up to the eastern side of the reservoir!"

Just then, a sniper from somewhere in the darkness began taking shots at her, and with the car destroyed, there was no real cover. If APO didn't react fast, this guy was going to fill her with lead.

Without thinking, she yanked her mask off her face, and threw it toward the north, where the shots were coming from. The sniper only wasted three seconds firing at it, but that was long enough for Sydney to reach the far end of the reservoir.

In the meantime, Sark had made it back to the overpass, where he had instructed one of his men to be waiting with another getaway car just in case. What he didn't know was that APO had managed to cover that area, and just as the car reached there, two shots rang out, shattering the driver-side windshield

On the verge of changing direction for the third time in less than three minutes, Sark had gone less than four feet when a small wire came shooting out of the night, and hit him in the back of the neck.. Had he been a little closer to the edge, he might gone into the water, but Vaughn had positioned himself just right, and grabbed the frequent flier before he could collapse.

"You're not getting out of this that easy," Vaughn said as reeled the stun gun back in.

He knew that it would probably be a lot better for the world if he just gave a small push, and let the water swallow Sark. But that would have been too clean a death for someone who had caused as much trouble as him, and Vaughn knew better.

Instead, he went to his earpiece. "All units, converge on my last known coordinates. I have Sark!"

"Alive?"

"He'll have a slight headache when he wakes up," Vaughn said. "After which we'll give him a much bigger one."

**9:43:26/9:43:27/9:43:28/9:43:29**

After all he had put them through, Jack wished he could have done more than chaining his hands and feet in front of him, and stripping him naked before the festivities could begin. But he knew that time was of the essence, so he decided to hold off further indignities until they could were ready to proceed.

"You have any idea who he was calling?" he asked Sydney, who was online with Marshall going over his ell.

"He's got a scrambler on it," Sydney told him. "I'm uploading the data now, but it's still going to take a few minutes. Have we tracked down all of his henchmen?"

"Your father is in the middle of doing the final sweep, but right now its looking like they're all dead," Vaughn told him. "At least, the ones that he brought with him are. God knows how many he's got in reserve waiting in case something went wrong."

"Why fuck around?" Jack told him. "I say we ask him."

With that, he slapped Sark hard across the face. Slowly their tormentor began to stir. "Wake up, you piece of shit."

Sark began to rouse. If he was at all put out by his position or the people who were surrounding him, he gave no sign. "Mr. Bauer," he managed to see. "It seems you have the advantage of me."

"Always the master of the understatement," Jack muttered.

Sark twisted his head to the left. "So what exactly is your plan? Beat on me until I talk?"

"Actually, I was figuring we'd just whale on you for the hell of it," Sydney told him, as she got up.

"I must compliment you, Sydney," Sark said in those beguiling tones strangers might have found charming. "Fooling me twice with the same trick. That takes real skill on your part."

"You never were the brightest star in the heavens," Sydney then reached out and grabbed Sark's testicles.

"Here's the only deal we're offering, and it's non-negotiable," she said in a low voice. "You're going to tell where the remaining vials are, who you're working for, and what the fuck my DNA has to do with Milo Rimbaldi. In exchange, I _might _allow you to keep your manhood. This offer will expire in the next sixty seconds. Unfortunately, if you don't help us, _you _will not expire until much later."

It was difficult to tell in the night sky, but Sydney was pretty sure that Sark paled considerably. "First of all, I must compliment you on your methods of interrogation. You've certainly taken a page out of Jack's handbook here."

Sydney responded by twisting her hand fifteen degrees to the left. "Not helping yourself," she reminded their prisoner.

"I don't suppose it would make any difference to tell you that the man I'm working for has penalties where the term 'fate worse than death' has real meaning?" Sark was maintaining his usual calm, but she could detect a little hysteria behind his usual composure.

"You have fifteen seconds left," Jack told him. "I guess we have to sweeten the deal." He removed a halo knife from one of the compartments in his belt.

"I've never understood your families genetic connection to Rimbaldi," Sark said instantly. "All I know is that it has some vague connection your DNA and the Y chromosome. The actual biology has always been a bit over my head."

"So you're an idiot," Vaughn said calmly. "What else is new?"

"How many vials of the virus are left?" Jack was lowering his knife below Sark's stomach.

"Nine of them are in transport to specific locations across the world," Sark finally told them frantically. "One was in the car that I destroyed. The remaining one is in the glove compartment of the other vehicle I was trying to escape in!"

Jack took the knife away, and headed out to check that car.

"Where are the locations?' Vaughn pressed.

"Laptop in my car, will give you their precise longitude and latitude, along with the estimated time of arrival," Sark told them.

"What alteration did you have Wang make to the virus?" Sydney demanded.

"Ten of them were altered to match genetic marks of the ten most populous races on Earth. Nine are headed to location where they can affect the greatest casualties, I was to disperse the tenth in the Pacific at a given time."

"And the last vial?" Sydney demanded.

"An insurance policy." Sark told them. "Against my collaborator."

"Which brings us to the crucial question-- and an incorrect answer will cost you all your points and at least one testicle-- whose the man behind the curtain?"

Amazingly, Sark seemed to recover some of his bravado. "Why are you asking questions that you already know the answer to?" he asked.

A chill that had nothing to do with the night air began to seep through Sydney's bones. "That's not possible," she said flatly.

"All the things you've seen of Rimbaldi for all this time, and you still refuse to believe?" Sark actually had the nerve to give one of his smug smiles. "Your mother and your aunts believed. Why don't you?"

Jack had returned with the vial in his hand. "What was this vial's destination?"

Sydney now twisted her hand another ten degrees. "Why don't you tell Jack what you're trying to tell us?" she said as Sark moaned.

"The man behind today's attack-- the man who wants all this to succeed-- is Arvin Sloane."

Jack's reaction to this was to put the vial in his pocket, take out his knife, and put it directly below Sark's Adam's apple. "We warned you what the penalties would be for fucking with us," he whispered.

"It's the truth, Jack," Sark was sounding a little too smug for anyone's liking.

"Sloane is dead. I know because I killed him."

"You killed Victor Drazen, too," Sark reminded him. "Jack Bristow murdered Irina Derevko. Sydney thought she'd murdered Allison Dorian-- twice. Everyone thought Sydney was dead for two years. You think I'm lying to you, that's your prerogative. But do you really think you can take the chance I'm not?"

"You're a lying sack of shit, Sark," Vaughn reminding him.

"Really? In five minutes, you'll know I'm telling the truth."

A sickening feeling was filling Jack's stomach. "What are you saying?"

"He's going to be calling to make sure my meeting came off successfully. So unless you want to this happen, I would stop fiddling with my phone and un-cuff me." Sark smiled. "You know how easily Sloane can smell a trap."

**9:55:02/9:55:03/9:55:04/9:55:05**

Sydney's father had not found anymore mercenaries within the radius of the reservoir. There could very will be more a couple of miles beyond, but right now they didn't have any time to do any further sweeps.

When Jack told him what Sark had related to all of them, Mr. Bristow's reaction was one of resignation.

"You don't really believe him, do you?"

"You remember what we found when we were trying to track down Elena, don't you?" Sydney's father reminded them. "That was as close to a clone as a non-genetic that I've ever seen. It might have taken a lot of effort to create more than one, but if anybody had the patience to do it, it's Arvin Sloane."

Jack just shook his head. "How many times do I have to kill this motherfucker before he fucking dies?!" he said in a whisper.

"As bad as the news is, there are currently more serious things to consider," Mr. Bristow pointed out. "Where are we on the locations of the vials?"

"I found that laptop Sark told us about," Sydney said into the phone. "He was on the level about this much; I have nine sets of coordinates across the globe where the virus is going to be deployed, ranging from the LA-Mexico border to the tropics of Indonesia."

"Fortunately, for seven of the nine locations, we have the luxury of time," Vaughn told them. "Sark claims he's been spending the last two hours sending them out from LA, but based on the coordinates, it's going to take the majority of them eight or nine hours to reach their destinations. I'll contact Director Chase, see what we can do about deploying a nearby agents so that we can stop them."

"What about the other two?"

"One of them is headed to Alaska, which will make transport slightly difficult," Jack responded. "The one near Mexico -- they probably handled it long ago. I'm going to call Tony tell him to contact CDC and other emergency relief agencies and have them prepare for what might be epidemic."

"Don't lose hope yet," Sark spoke up.

"Did anyone say you could talk?" Sydney responded.

"My employee is under orders not to leave his package until he receives word of the sacrifice. You may be able to stop this horror yet."

"Now is not the time for you to be smug," Jack ordered.

"Considering that I'm the one standing between you and international genocide, I think a little conceit on my part is in order."

Jack was about to slap Sark across the face, when his cell began to ring.

"You should probably answer that," Sark replied. "Otherwise, he'll get suspicious."

Not really believing what he was going to consider doing, Jack took the phone out. "Get cute, and--"

"You'll take away my Junior Achievement card, yes, I know."

The button was pressed. "Yes?" Sark asked calmly.

"Have you met with Irina?"

"Yes," Sark replied.

"Do you have what we need?"

Sark hesitated. "I have access to two of the parts of the formula. I still don't know how you intend to get the last without complications."

"Dangle someone she loves in front of Sydney, and she loses perspective. You and I know that better than anyone."

"It wouldn't be simpler to use Nadia?" Sark asked.

There was a pause. "You mention my daughter again, and you won't live long enough to earn your immortality."

The rare anger in the cadence was enough to make Sydney's stomach roll. She would know that part of her ex-boss' voice anywhere.

"The place we agreed upon, thirty minutes," Sloane told them. "And Julian, you've made some major screw-ups today. This is your last chance." With that he hung up.

Sark looked at their stunned faces with reproach. "I believe the next move is yours."

**9:59:57/9:59:58/9:59:59/10:00:00**


	17. 10:00 PM TO 11:00 PM

Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

**The Following Takes Place Between 10:00 P.M. and 11:00 P.M.**

Jack's first reaction was to grab Sark by the scruff of the neck. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

Sark just looked at Jack's hand on his clothing and arched a brow, looking as though someone had spilled a plate of syruped pancakes on his Armani. "You know as well as I do how swift Sloane is," he said in a remarkably calm voice. "He even smells a trap, he goes to his contingency plan, and you never get to see how alive he is."

Sydney rolled her eyes, standing back a few feet from the two men. "Do you really think you're in any position to bargain?"

"If you _want_ to kill me, go ahead," Sark said as though telling a five-year-old it was perfectly fine that he held his breath until he turned blue. "However, if you do that, you won't have the proverbial chance in hell in finding Sloane, or stopping him from succeeding in his master plan."

"Do you even bother to keep track of what you do?" Sydney argued. "You just gave us a laptop—"

"—with general geographic coordinates as to where the virus is going to be deployed. But that's a huge difference from the exact locations or knowing who you're looking for." Sark gave a Gallic shrug. "Sloane's spent a lot of time and energy preparing for this. You think he hasn't planned for your involvement as well? Even if you manage to mobilize the world's police, it would be nearly impossible to get all of them on your own. And while that would thwart the plan, it would still lead to the deaths of tens of millions. You prepared to take that chance?"

With a sickening horror, Jack that even if he didn't believe in the endgame, the results of Sark's plan would be cataclysmic. Slowly he took his hands off Sark.

"Now here are my terms for helping, and believe me when I tell you they are non-negotiable." Sark's tone took a patronizing air that nobody liked. "You're going to uncuff me and give me back my clothes and my laptop. You're also going to get me a new car to make up for the two you had me destroy. Then you're going to call your friend the President and arrange for a special deal."

"You really think that David Palmer would give you any kind of deal based on the shit you've pulled today?" Vaughn argued.

"Not unless he wants to go down in history as the _last_ President of the United States, which is definitely going to happen if events play out as Sloane intends."

"You really think he's going to buy to any of this immortality bullshit that you and Irina have been flinging about?" Jack asked.

Sark smiled. "Who says he needs to believe the part about immortality? He needs to know that _Sloane _believes it. Considering Arvin Sloane's history, that shouldn't take too much doing, now should it?" He shrugged. "Besides, making the President a believer isn't my job. It's yours. And you know as well as I do that immunity from prosecution isn't going to protect me from Sloane. No," Sark told them. "Once I gave you what I promised you're going to arrange for me to disappear. Like the Covenant did when they tried to break Sydney. Only you're going to do a much more effective task of it then they will."

"You really want to see how well we can make you disappear?" Sydney argued.

"Unchain him."

Sydney wasn't sure she heard right. "Jack, this man was the prince of lies even before today," she reminded him.

Jack paused, torn between answering her and chewing her out for not following orders. However, one rule of interrogations: don't let the bad guys see you quibble unless it was planned in advance. He gestured for Sark's hands. Sark gave a little nod and offered them up, and Jack unlocked him.

Julian turned back and grinned. "How very civil of you—"

Jack shoved Sark in the chest so hard he fell over, landing ass first on the bridge. "Make yourself comfortable," he said as he turned, moving away.

"I think I'll do that, thank you."

Sydney and Vaughn followed Jack out of Sark's earshot, moving to the other side of the barricade of CTU vans. Both Michael and Syd started to speak, and Syd relented, letting Vaughn go first.

"Jack, what the hell are you thinking? What about the Chinese?" Vaughn argued. "They're still going to want their pound of flesh after this is over; you want to make a bad situation with them terrible?"

Bauer's eyes narrowed as he looked at the both of them. "Sark knows as well as I do even if this deal goes through, the Chinese aren't going to give up searching for him just because of our deal. He can run, but he can't hide forever. Besides, the Chinese don't even need to know he was involved. We can give them Sloane, and they can spend forever torturing him for all I care. And that's assuming he can stay out of the reach of Sloane's lackeys, and we know from past experience those people have longer reaches than any single government." He looked back, towards Sark. "If I had enough time to drop some hints—"

Sark, who was getting impatient, screamed over the guards and the vans, "You've got slightly more than twenty-five minutes to convince the President of the seriousness of all this, get my deal, then drive to the rendezvous point." Even though Sark was stripped naked, it seemed like he had managed to regain the upper hand. "Sloane's on a schedule, and he will not wait for long."

Jack exchanged a glance with Syd and Michael, and Syd rolled her eyes. "How can you trust him not to turn on us the moment he's able?"

Bauer smiled, then moved back towards the prisoner. Sark had managed to park himself on the curb, completely free of chains or modesty.

Hating everything that was happening even more then before, Sydney unlocked the cuffs, while Jack took out his cell.

"I suppose asking for a little privacy would be meaningless given how intimate you've demonstrated yourself with my anatomy," Sark was exercising his faux charm again.

"I've seen it, there's nothing to be private about."

**10:08:49/10:08:50/10:08:51**

"Jack, I've been on the phone with CTU, " the President told him. "I understand that you've managed to capture Julian Sark."

"Mr. President, have you been briefed by Tony and Dixon on the events of the last few hours?" Jack asked brusquely.

"I've been keeping an indirect ear on things, but I've had to deal with the rioting and waves of racial violence breaking out across the country, as well as monitoring things at the UN," the President told him.

"Then I'm afraid I have to tell that you the situation is far more serious than any of us could have imagined," Jack said grimly.

"I wouldn't think that was possible."

"Sir, in the last three hours, we've learned that Sark was not the sole arbiter of today's events."

There was a pause. "Who is?"

Jack took a deep breath. "Arvin Sloane," he told him.

"Jack, this morning you assured me that Arvin Sloane was dead," the President told him. "In fact, you assured me of that several months ago. I believe you said something about a fall from a great height and explosives."

"I don't know what to tell you, Mr. President," Jack said honestly. "Since I've started at APO, death doesn't seem to carry the same weight that it used to. All I know is, less than ten minutes ago we intercepted a call to Sark from Sloane. Believe me when I tell you I recognized the voice."

President Palmer considered this. "You told me that the situation was worse than we thought," he finally asked. "How? Does it have to do with this Rimbaldi individual?"

"Sloane is in possession of nine of the vials of the genetic virus that were used in Los Angeles earlier today," Jack said flatly. "According to Sark, each one has been genetically modified to affect the various ethnic groups in the planet. Sloane intends to deploy them at certain locations within the next several hours."

There was a much longer pause as the President absorbed this. "What in the name of God is this madman trying to do?" he finally asked.

Now came the really hard part. "All the evidence that we have uncovered indicates Sloane is trying to carry out Rimbaldi's final solution," he said carefully. "He believes that it can create some kind of immortality for those who survive this plague."

"Jack, I know what you and Agent Bristow told me about the last time we dealt with Rimbaldi," the President said. "And even after you convinced me of its veracity, it was nearly impossible for me to convince anyone in my or any other government that this was feasible."

"I realize that, Mr. President," Jack admitted. "In all honesty, I'm not convinced I believe it myself. But even if we don't believe in Sloane's endgame, we know what _will _happen. We've seen this virus in action. If even a tenth of what he's telling us is true, we could be faced with something even worse than World War III."

"Do you have any kind of plan on how to stop this from coming about?" President Palmer asked.

"Right now, our best chance of tracking Sloane down is to follow Sark," Jack told him. "And he has made it very clear that he will not help us unless we protect him against the Chinese and Sloane."

"Jack, too many people know what this man has already done," the President told him. "If I were to give any kind of deal to him, the Chinese would declare war within minutes."

Jack looked at Sark, who by now was completely dressed. "He's well aware of that," he told him. "Which is why he wants us to fake his death."

"What makes him think we won't let that come about normally?"

"He knows that, too," Jack said. "He's playing on our patriotism. And as much as I want to blow his head off now, we don't have time to screw around. He's set up to meet with Sloane in the next fifteen minutes, and he's not going to tell us where until we have a deal in place."

There was the longest pause yet. Finally the President spoke. "Put Sark on the line."

Jack put the phone on speaker, and walked over to Sark. "Do not fuck with us," he told him.

"Mr. Sark," the President said in a tone that Jack knew contained a real, genuine anger. "I suppose I should congratulate you on becoming the most dangerous man alive, except, if you're to be believed, there are far more terrible people behind it. Given your reputation for deceitfulness, I am tempted to believe that you are lying, and throw you over to the Chinese. However, the President can not afford to gamble with the fate of the world. Therefore, if the information you have leads us to Arvin Sloane, you will get everything you have asked for. I will make this clear to any government that seeks to prosecute you. No agent of this government will be permitted to touch you. Is this satisfactory?"

"I can live with it," Sark said. "And I had better."

"My word isn't good enough?" the President said icily.

"I suppose it'll have to be," Sark said airily.

**10:17:35/10:17:36/10:17:37/10:17:38**

"All right," Sydney said disgusted. "You've gotten what you asked for. Now where are you going to meet Sloane?"

Sark had just finished neatening up his collar. "The lobby of the Northern Hotel, just off Santa Monica Bay," he said quietly. "And before you get in contact with CTU, assembling back up teams and wiring me for sound, let make some things perfectly clear: Sloane knows every protocol you're going to run, and he's prepared himself against just such contingencies."

Jack gave him a wry half-smile. "Don't you think we know that?" Jack snapped. "He only ran on both sides of this game for the past twenty years." Bauer smiled. "We're going to send you in on your own. Try not to get killed before we get to Sloane."

"The President may have given his blessing to this," Vaughn said, "but you can't honestly think—"

"The time, gentlemen," Sark said coolly. "You can't afford to waste it nattering over whether I'm trustworthy. You may think I'm not—"

"We _know _you're not," Sydney countered.

"—but as I've made clear, I'm your best last chance at stopping all this." Sark's voice turned cold. "In any case, you don't have to worry about me going unsupervised. Miss Bristow will be accompanying me right into the lion's den."

Jack Bristow, who had been updating Tony and Dixon about the situation at CTU, had walked back over to them. "What the hell are you thinking?"

Sark gave Mr. Bristow a jaunty little wave, as though they were old friends instead of occasional hunter and prey. "Sloane's going to expect me to show up with both your granddaughter and Irina. When he finds out I don't have either, he'll be inclined to kill me right then."

"We don't have a problem with that," Vaughn told him icily.

"I've only told you where I'm going to _meet _with Sloane, not his base of operations," Sark pointed out. "And before you try to run roughshod over me to get it, I'm not going to give you what little leverage I have left until I am absolutely sure I'm safe."

Jack looked Sark straight in the eye. "I give you my word that we aren't going to doublecross you."

Julian met Jack's gaze unflinchingly and nodded. "And I appreciate how hard that must be for you. And, while I completely trust your word, Jack," he said with a glance at Vaughn and the Bristows, "there some others who I do not trust to exercise the same control."

Bauer nodded. "I understand. Just as long as you give me your word that you're not going to screw us on this."

Sark smiled. "Of course. My word is given."

"That's it?" Vaughn said tightly, nearly yelling. "You're just going to take his word for it—"

Jack glanced at Vaughn with a look harder than he had just given Sark. "Yes. I do. It's worked before. Not in the way we expected it, but he kept his word." Bauer looked to Sark again. "So what exactly are you going to do?"

"I will tell Sydney, and only Sydney, the full details of my plan when we are in transit," Sark told them. "There will be no tracers, no parabolic mikes, no electronics at all. And whatever teams you send to the hotel had better stay outside a one-mile radius of the hotel. Sloane has access to a special mobile radar technology."

"All right," Sydney said abruptly.

All three of the men looked at Sydney as if she'd grown a third head. "You can't tell me you're putting your life in the hands of this sack of shit?" Vaughn told her.

"If you honestly I'm afraid of him..." Sydney trailed off there. "He knows that if he does anything to fuck with us, I'll snap his neck like a chicken bone." Sydney fixed Sark with a stare. "I also know Sloane better than any of you, and right now this is probably our only chance of getting to him. we need a stinking piece of cheese to catch this rat."

Vaughn knew that his wife was right, but that didn't mean he liked it. "Do anything to hurt Sydney—"

"Now, now, Agent Vaughn," Sark said. "You know I would treat anyone you're married to with the utmost respect."

Sydney clamped an arm on her husband's shoulder.

"You must really have a death wish," Sydney muttered.

"How wrong you are, Sydney," Sark said smugly

**10:24:09/10:24:10/10:24:11**

Nadia had been monitoring the events at the Reservoir over the past hour with a deepening sense of dismay. However, when she heard from Dixon what was about to be done next, she couldn't hold out any longer. Though she was still pissed at Jack, she didn't hesitate to call him.

"Bauer,"

"Jack, it's Nadia. What the fuck is going on? " she demanded abruptly. "Thirty minutes ago, you had Sark in custody, now you've helped broker a deal for his freedom and let him take Sydney to whatever madness he's still involved in?"

"Sark confirmed that everything that Irina said was true, and Sark's the only thing that we can use to stop him. We're talking about nothing less than the extinction of the human race. Under these circumstances, we had no choice but to give him some kind of deal."

"Is my father alive?" Nadia demanded.

"I can't say for—"

"Is he alive, Jack?"

Jack didn't hesitate. "I think so," he told her.

The same glut of emotions that had flowed through her the last time she had dealt with her father were running rampant in her again. This time anger overwhelmed all the others, though Nadia still wasn't sure who it was aimed at this time.

She tried to focus her emotion on her immediate goals. "He wanted Isabelle for this sacrifice?" she asked.

"If Sark is to be believed, she's not the only one he wants," Jack told her. "According to the data file, he needs the blood of three generations of the Chosen One's ancestry."

Nadia tried to get her head around this. "In other words, he'd need Sydney as well as Isabelle and my mother," she pointed out.

"He could also have been talking about you," Jack pointed out.

"But Syd's in the field, and I'm not," Nadia said angrily. "Why is it we keep giving these people what they want?"

"From what we understand, he needs all three of you together. That still puts him two short of pulling this off," Jack reminded her.

"And you don't think that my father doesn't have some backup plan for getting at them?" Nadia said bitterly. "He's spent years trying to set all this up, and he's not going to let a highly-protected government facility stand between him and a lifetime's obsession."

"We won't let it get that far," Jack assured Nadia. "A parent will do anything to protect their child. Sydney will never let Sloane get near her."

"She may not have that option," Nadia told him. "You know how good a manipulator my father is. He already managed to get Sark and Anna Espinoza to work together when they should have ripped each other to pieces. He must have some kind of backup even in case something happens to him."

Even though Jack was inclined to agree, he realized they couldn't plan that far in advance. "We can't afford to worry about anything else your father might do later. We have to worry about stopping him now."

"You were supposed to have stopped him, Jack," Nadia reminded him bitterly. "He's managed to escape death so many times, I'm not sure it even bothers him as a threat."

"What are you saying?"

"Just that, we better hope Sloane hasn't already gotten what he's playing for," Nadia argued. "Otherwise, we've got a whole new set of problems."

**10:29:31/10:29:32/10:29:33/10:29:34**

"How long will it take you to get into position?" Sydney asked Jack Bristow over her cell.

"We're in transit. If Sark's been telling us the truth, it'll take us an additional ten minutes once we're there to get set up properly," her father told her. "I don't need to tell you what a big 'if' that is."

"If you're going to tell me what a bad idea this is again, I'm well aware of the consequences," Sydney said. "The hell of the thing is, even after the mountains of bullshit I've climbed through to deal with Sloane, I think he still has more than a little affection for me. I don't think that it has anything to do with prophecies or Rimbaldi or all the lies."

"Sydney, Sark just told you, he only wants you for your blood," her father said. "He's willing to use Isabelle to get to you."

"That's his perversion of affection," Sydney told him. "It disgusts me to my very core, but if I can use it to get close to him, it's worth the effort. Don't get me wrong," she said quickly, "if I see a chance to take him out, I will use it, but I'm pretty sure he'll give more information voluntarily than trying to torture it from him."

There was a pause. "I don't have to remind you that Arvin Sloane is a whole different animal than Sark," Jack Bristow began.

"No, you don't, and in a perfect world you could firebomb the hotel the second after Sark goes in," she told him, "but as always seems to be the case, we can't do what the heart wants."

"Has Sark given you anything yet?"

"Not much," Sydney admitted. "I'm going to press him a little more before we get there. "

"Then don't waste anymore time," her father said. "Even with the defenses Sloane might have, we've got some devices from Marshall that should help us get around that. Worry about getting whatever information you can get before we send the walls crashing down."

"All right," Sydney said. "I'm going dark. I'll try and get in touch with you at the best opportunity."

"I'll make sure CTU is prepared."

Sydney turned off her phone. "Just out of curiosity," she asked her passenger, "what's the game plan? You think you're just going to walk in the front door with me and Sloane will welcome you with open arms?"

"You misunderstand the situation," Sark said. "_I'm _going to be bringing you in, not the other way around."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Sloane will kill me if I were to show up empty-handed," Sark told him. "But he'll be more than understanding when I come in with a hostage who happens to be the missing part of the formula."

Suddenly things were making a lot more sense to Sydney. "I worked under Sloane far longer than you have," she told him icily. "He knows my abilities. He'll never believe you could have taken me in a fair fight."

"You've known me a long time, too," Sark pointed out. "When was the last time I fought fair? You managed to take out my entire team, but in the aftermath of the carnage I managed to zap you with a stun gun and take you prisoner, just like your loving husband was willing to do to get me."

"How are you going to explain what happened to my mother and Isabelle?"

"As far as I know, they're in CTU custody. As horrible as Irina must have been to you earlier, you wouldn't kill her without draining her of intelligence, and after she tried to get your daughter, you probably put her in your equivalent of a steel cage with all the big strong women surrounding her. By the way," Sark asked casually, "how's your sister doing?"

"Just fine," Sydney said as calmly as she could manage. "As always, the help that you hired for these kinds of missions is always spectacularly inept."

"Really," Sark said in a tone just as smug. "The Premier of China is dead, there are race riots spreading throughout the country, and we're hours away from starting off the wholesale slaughter of the entire planet. Seems we've done a fine job."

Because there was an element of truth to this, Sydney decided to ask a more pertinent question. "How long has this been in the works?" she demanded. "Was this always Sloane's endgame, even while he was working for SD-6?"

"You'll get a chance to ask him soon enough," Sark pointed out. "I've only known about this plan since I managed to escape from you the last time. By the way, how did Jack take my escape when I left you with Anna?"

Syd kept her eye on the road. "Consider yourself fortunate that you weren't within shooting distance at the time. Arm's length would have been worse."

Sark smiled. "Ah, always good to be appreciated."

"Now, the plan?"

"Yes. That. I am aware that your aunt, the late Elena Derevko, never knew about it. Otherwise, she'd have made it part of her plan when she managed to get Arvin out of the situation when you had the plane shot out from under him after that whole Sayed Ali incident."

"And how exactly did he manage to persuade Anna to work for him, given everything that had gone on between them over the years?"

"Anna is a bit like me. She's always been willing to work for the highest bidder. When she learned that she could earn immortality for playing the wife of a millionaire defense contractor—and doing us the odd favor, now and then—she jumped at the chance." Sark gave another one of his cold smiles. "For that kind of bounty, she was even willing to work with the man who put her in prison."

"You're not giving me enough to convince me you're going to do as your told," Sydney said.

"Well, you're going to have to trust my sincerity soon," Sark told her. "The hotel is on the next left."

**10:38:27/10:38:28/10:38:29**

The Northern Hotel was not a particularly grandiose building, but Sydney had a feeling that Sloane had chosen it more for location than atmosphere. Though it appeared to be a quasi-luxury hotel, there were signs that there was something below the surface. There seemed to be a lot more electronics at ground level, and there seemed to be a far greater crowd gathering around the entrance than the usual number of doormen and valets.

Sydney was in the process of parking when Sark muttered: "Hand over your weapon."

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Sydney countered.

"Am I supposed to be holding you hostage with you holding the weapon? And since your people haven't gotten into position, you've got no backup. _Hand over your gun."_

Sydney could already see the holes in this plan, but did not quibble, choosing to hand over her Glock. He leveled it on her like he meant it. "Now open your door, and _slowly_ step out," he ordered.

She did so. A few seconds later, Sark crept out behind her, the Glock now pointed squarely at her head. "I believe you know the procedure," Sark said coolly. He grabbed her wrist, and began to push her forward

As they neared the entrance, Sydney quickly got confirmation that the Northern was no rest stop. Three of the men who had gathered at the front, now approached them with weapons in their hands. "What the fuck is she doing here?" one of the men demanded.

"If I were you, I would watch my mouth," Sark said in his normal smug tone. "The woman I've captured is very important to our VIP."

"Maybe so, but she's not the one you were supposed to bring here," an unpleasant looking man with an Uzi said. "How do we know that this isn't a trap?"

"Do your little electronic sweep if it makes you feel big," Sark said almost casually. "Myself, I think this one deserves a thorough examination."

The last individual took out a small metal box with an antenna emerging from the top. Slowly, he waved it over Sydney and Sark's bodies. There was a long hesitation before he finally said: "No electronics."

Sydney wasn't sure who he was talking to or to whom Sark followed by saying: "We were about to go through another scan going in," he reminded. "This was rather superfluous."

"Maybe," a familiar voice even with an electronic scratch said. Sydney realized there was probably some intercom nearby, probably near one of the cameras. "It doesn't, however, explain why she's here and Irina isn't."

"She _is _the reason Irina isn't here," Sark told her. "CTU caught Anna, and her file led them to stop Irina. Bauer and Ms. Bristow here must have found data that led them to our rendezvous point. They killed most of my team, but I managed to grab Sydney and take her prisoner."

"And you thought what? That coming back here with half the US government on your tail was a good idea?"

"I've worked with you long enough to know that not giving you what you want is less pleasant than federal custody," Sark pointed out. "I figured better to show up with part of what you needed and a plan to get the rest was better than leaving you completely in the lurch."

"I warned you about disappointing me," Even through a speaker, the coldness in Sloane's voice was unmistakable. "Why shouldn't I just take Sydney myself and kill you anyway?"

"Because I got you one third of the formula, just a different third. And you need me to get Irina and Isabelle before the deadline passes."

There was a long pause. Sydney had begun to wonder if they were going to shoot her anyway, when Sloane spoke. "Let them in."

"You sure about this?" one of the man said.

"Make sure the scanner is on, but let them in."

The three gunmen arranged themselves so that there was on each side of Sydney and Sark, and one behind them. They slowly advanced to the front door. When they got there a red light quickly scanned them over a period of several seconds before turning green.

"Thank you for having faith in us," Sark said as the door opened.

"Trust has nothing to do with it," Sloane said. "I've got a schedule to keep."

And once again Sydney was standing in front of the man who had haunted her nightmares for years.

Arvin Sloane was alive and well He sat behind the main desk of the lobby as though he were back at APO. His entire body was focused towards projecting absolute tranquility, and the front was impenetrable to anyone who didn't know him. His beady maroon eyes flickered occasionally over Sydney's body, the only hint that there was anything wrong behind them. His slender, elegant fingers were steepled before him, giving a forced image of contemplation—although most people back at APO thought of it as simple scheming. His short and wiry body only held a hint of tension.

"Hello, Sydney. I feel obliged to point out that the reports of my death were..." he smiled, his eyes alight with a demented fire, "premature."

**10:47:22/10:47:23/10:47:24/10:47:25**

Jack looked up from his high-powered binoculars. "I count four men at the front door, and two more sweeping the perimeter." He turned to Vaughn, who was holding a Marshall-patented infrared scanner. "That ready yet?"

"Hold on a second." He focused the device so that it was level—or as level as they could get from this distance—with the ground floor. "I'm picking up nine heat signatures just outside the hall. Assuming that we're counting the guards that just brought Sydney and Sark in, that means four more on the inside."

"What about the upper floors?"

Vaughn looked at the device. "I'm going to try from a different position." He walked to the far eastern side of the beach that was at the limits of the radius of Sloane's electronics. He pressed a couple of buttons.

"Anything?"

"I can't tell," Vaughn shook his head in frustration.

"Could you have a better read if we moved closer?" Jack asked.

"There's a lot of electronic interference," he told both of the Jacks who were with him, "and even if we were nearer to the hotel, I'm not sure that Marshall's device would be able to operate so that we could get a bead unless we were at a higher position."

"Wonderful," Jack said. "I guess the next step is to start building castles."

"What did you expect?" Mr. Bristow said, looking up from the radio. "Sloane didn't choose this place by accident. He wanted to make sure that he had all his options covered. Sark has to have known that as well."

"We don't even know if Sloane is in there," Jack pointed out. "Right now, all we have is Sark's word, and a voice on the telephone, which we all know could have been faked.."

Vaughn looked at Jack. "You're now doubting what you heard?" he asked. "This is an awful lot of manpower and electronics for a bluff."

"I have no doubt that somehow Sloane's behind this plot," Jack told him. "This is too elaborate a setup for it not to be. But if this place isn't his base of operations, as Sark says, what the fuck is he using it for?"

**10:51:14/10:51:15/10:51:16**

Ironically, at that very moment the exact same question was running through Sydney's mind. However, there were other, more pressing problems to deal with.

"I'm a little hurt," Sloane said as he walked towards Sydney and Sark. "All the years we've known each other, I finally turn up again, and you have nothing to say me?"

Sydney made certain to keep her eyes locked on Sloane while taking in the entire lobby with her peripheral vision. It was a standard hotel lobby—filled with tables, couches, vases, overstuffed armchairs for lounging. If she didn't get take out Sloane here and now, any shootout would be a nightmare.

"What would you have me tell you?" Sydney asked rhetorically. "Jack Bauer told me that he'd dropped you off a building in Russia a little more than a year ago. Since then, I'd hoped and prayed that had finally been enough to get rid of you." She looked at her arch-nemesis. "I guess I should have known better than to take stock in hopes and prayers."

"How odd you should think that," Sloane said calmly. "Because what I have labored on for all these years, what I've been trying to help bring about today, is the realization of mankind's greatest dreams."

"You're planning to slaughter billions of people to bring about immortality for a precious few," Sydney told him "Only in that twisted corkscrew excuse for your mind could that be translated as any kind of dream."

Sloane shook his head. "I'd hoped you would understand," he said sadly. "I'd wish that you would be able to share in my dream."

"Again, only in your twisted little brain is that considered a dream and not a nightmare. You were willing to kill my daughter in order to bring all this about," Sydney said angrily. "And if the information on that data file is to be believed, you'd have been willing to open my veins in order to achieve it. Only someone who has no understanding of love or compassion could think I would willingly participate."

As always, Sloane absorbed these wounds of his character with the same stoicisms he reserved for everything else. Instead, he turned his attention to the other person in the room that he had made sure his guards still had their guns trained on.

"This is what you bring me?" he demanded of his second-in-command. "I give you all of this power and access, and this is all you can manage? I should have killed you hours ago."

Sydney took a certain satisfaction when Sark began to break out into a sweat for the first time.

"I've done everything you asked for," he reminded Sloane. "We retrieved the virus, the Premier's dead, racial tensions are spinning out of control, the world's on the brink of nuclear confrontation—"

"All of which does me no good if that takes place before the blood-letting," Sloane reminded Sark. "And where are we there? Where is Irina? Where is Sydney's daughter?"

Sark managed to regain some of his footing. "I can't help it if the people you insisted I hire for this job turned out to be incompetent," he told his boss.

"Yes, I do seem to be having trouble finding good help," Sloane said coldly. "And since the people I've hired seem to keep falling into the government's hands, maybe I should preempt them from getting a hold of you."

As tempted as Sydney was to let this scenario play out, she could tell this might be her best opportunity. She swung around, bringing her knee up into Sark's crotch, and twisted back, throwing Sark across the room into Sloane.

The guards whirled around, but were slow to reach for their weapons; Sydney figured because they were unwilling to kill the sacrifice.

She leapt behind the nearest couch to be out of sight when they changed their minds.

"I've got some movement on the first floor!" Vaughn shouted. "Looks like some kind of fight!"

"I heard gunfire!" Jack told them. "Sydney's taking action. We have to rush the place _now_!"

"We don't have proper backup or firepower and there at least four or five heavily armed sentries in the doorway!" Sydney's father told them. "We go into that, we'll get slaughtered, and Sark and Sloane will probably escape."

Jack had already considered this. "We still have the weaponry from your vehicle," he said slowly. "I've got a maneuver that might be able to get us in."

Despite how it looked, Sydney never dodged a bullet. Being faster than a speeding bullet while not being Superman was beyond even someone with Rimbaldi's technology.

However, she was always faster than the person pulling the trigger.

Two guards circled around the couch, and she pushed off her feet.

She landed next to the left side of the guard on her left, , landing just outside of his gun arm. As he tried swinging his gun her direction, she grabbed his wrist, stopping the motion, and yanked him towards her, slamming her palm behind his ear as he went down. She followed with him as the other guard opened fire, and she let his body absorb the impacts as she grabbed his gun.

Sydney swung the gun up and put a bullet neatly through the other guard's head.

"You idiots!" Sark shouted. "You want to bring CTU right to our doorstep?!"

Sloane now realized what was happening. "So that's how you managed to get Sydney." Arvin casually raised his weapon. "I should have known better than to trust someone who switches sides as often as you."

Sark was about protest when suddenly a small bullet hole appeared in Sloane's chest.. He turned to face Sydney, and fell flat on the floor as she fired once more, discouraging the other guards from taking a shot at Sark.

"Sark! Get over here unless you really think Sloane's guys are feeling charitable."

Sark reached out and snatched the pistol from the floor, then rolled from his position next to Sydney's couch, and scrambled to crouch next to her.

Sydney fired three more shots, then looked to Sark, muzzle pointed right between his eyes. "Now you don't have anymore leverage. You're going to tell me where those vials are and how to stop them from being delivered."

Despite everything that had happened in the past ten minutes, Sark actually seemed a little bemused. "It's never that simple." He nodded towards the other side of the couch. "Take a look at Arvin."

Sydney slowly rose, her line of sight just overing over the couch...and felt her legs turn rubbery. The blood that had been forming around the hole was pooling and clotting. The actual hole seemed to be shrinking.

And then she felt the muzzle of Sark's gun against the back of her head. "He's going to be pissed when he gets his strength back."

**10:59:57/10:59:58/10:59:59/11:00:00**


	18. 11:00 PM TO 12:00 AM

Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

**The Following Takes Place Between 11:00 P.M. and 12:00 A.M. **

"I think it's safe to say you're in over your head," Sark said calmly, as the men who had been about to kill him now helped him disarm and restrain Sydney.

"I don't understand," Sydney said in as strong a voice as she could manage. "If he's already gotten his immortality, why go through all this effort?"

"Because Sloane is a madman with a mission," Sark reminded her. "In his twisted, perverted way, he believes he's being heroic. Wants to make a world a better place, even if it means purging it of billions of lives. Me, I'm all about the wealth, power and glory that I will achieve once this is carried out."

"Sloane was about to kill you for all the mistakes you made," Sydney reminded him. "In fact, once he gets back up on his feet, I'm pretty sure that he'll do just that."

"Ah, but now we see the little flaw in Rimbaldi's solution," Sark told him. "He promised immortality, not indestructibility. He'll live forever, but he can still feel pain. And as you're well aware, taking one in the chest takes some time to recover from. Based on past experience, it'll be about twenty minutes by the time he's back to his old, lunatic self."

"And what exactly are you going to do in that time to get back into his good graces?" Sydney asked.

"Why, finish saving his life and help bring this project closer to the final phase," Sark said smoothly. "He's always been a man of expediency, and as much as he wants me dead, he wants this quest to be fulfilled more." He looked over at the guards. "Make sure that her hands _and _feet are bound. We won't be safe from her until she's dead, but right now, we'll take what we can get."

"You never had any intention of giving us Sloane, did you?' Sydney said, as they began to do tie her up..

"Sydney, I'm hurt. Don't tell me that you're _surprised_," Sark said smoothly. "Given the choice between reigning in Hell or serving in heaven, you know which one I'd pick, even without the added bonus of not actually having to find out either actually existed.."

Just then Sydney heard the very welcome sound of gunfire outside. "I wouldn't count your immortality before it's hatched," Sydney said.

"Ah, yes, that would be the cavalry," Sark said coldly. "Wouldn't be a show without APO riding to the rescue of our fair Penelope. However, they're going to be rather more than a day late and a dollar short." He looked at four more mercenaries who had arrived. "You two, get Mr. Sloane, and head towards the basement. The rest of you, make sure that Bauer and the rest of his people have no chance of catching up."

Vaughn still wasn't sure whether Sark had been telling the truth about the advanced surveillance equipment on the hotel, but he wasn't exaggerating about it being heavily guarded.. He counted at least a half dozen men at the front entrance, four more at the back, and a couple more guarding the perimeter. A couple of CTU teams could still have probably taken it without a huge expenditure of effort, but as they didn't have the time, they were going to have to improvise.

Fortunately, Vaughn knew both of his companions were experts at doing just that, so when Jack asked Vaughn to be the wheelman while he and Sydney's father helped get in through the front door, he just said: "No problem." He'd have been a little more comfortable if they'd come in a CTU Hummer, which was more equipped for this kind of charge, but he knew that whatever vehicle they used was going to take a lot of punishment regardless.

But that was after Jack had disappeared around the corner and came back with, of all things, a tractor-trailer, sixteen-wheeler truck.

Vaughn blinked as Jack pulled up. Michael slid in beside Jack while Sydney's father opened up a door on the side of the trailer. When Vaughn buckled in, he saw the muzzle of an MP5 sticking out the door that Mr. Bristow entered, and Jack drew his own handgun.

"Where did you get this?" Vaughn asked.

"You didn't think I was going to let Sydney walk into a highly fortified base without some way of breaking in, did you? Now drive."

Vaughn blinked only once more, then threw the truck in gear.

**11:05:32/11:05:33/11:05:34**

Sark was carrying Sydney himself, thrown over one shoulder in a fireman's hold. Sydney could honestly say she felt like nothing so much as a sack of potatoes.

He smirked over his shoulder at the front of the lobby—a smile that faded with the faint rumbling that made the hotel shake, and turned to stark terror as the cab of a truck burst through the front door. Several guards fell to the bursts of gunfire coming from the cab, and the buzz of automatic fire came from not too far outside.

Sark turned back towards the doorway and leapt through it, still carrying Sydney as he muttered under his breath, "Shit, shit, shit."

In all her years around Sark, Sydney had never known him to lose his cool that badly. The fact that he was had to be a good sign.

Sydney glanced around as soon as Sark stopped, swinging her into a sitting position on the floor. By now they were in the subbasement of the building. Someone had been hard at work constructing a tunnel in the middle of floor.

"What's the matter?" Sydney baited him. "Afraid that your people aren't man enough to keep three agents from getting into this so-called fortress your boss designed?"

Sark looked to Sydney, and his face went neutral, then slid into his usual, casual amusement. "I have every faith they'll get in," he told her. "They just won't be able to savor the victory for that long." He nodded to the hole in the floor. "You must hand it to Arvin. When he plans an exit strategy, he really goes the extra mile. I'm not entirely sure where this little hole in the floor goes, but, like they say, anywhere's better than here."

As they headed down, one of the guards asked: "How much time should I set the charges?"

"Three minutes," Sark told him.

"What now?" Sydney asked, as the men began hauling her and Sloane down the tunnel.

"Doing what Sloane would." Now Sark sounded almost like his old self. "Bringing the house down after us."

Back in the lobby, Jack had hardly waited for the truck to slow down before he jumped out of it, firing two three-round bursts into the gunmen in front of him as he ran straight ahead. He didn't even consider watching his left side—that fire zone was for Vaughn and the elder Bristow.

When three more gunmen from deeper in the lobby popped out from a doorway, Jack dropped to both knees, sliding across the carpet before slamming into the front desk. The bullets cut through the air over him as though a swarm of angry bees were after him. Bauer didn't even think before he threw himself to the side, firing around the desk and at both gunmen.

Both of the mercenaries fell over dead without any preamble, and Jack pushed to his feet a moment before more gunfire came—from behind him.

Bauer cursed as he swung around the desk to prevent him from behind shot in the back, wondering if Vaughn was really that bad a shot.

Unfortunately, it was obvious that there were more hired killers out there than they had though—either that or they were all smart enough to hit the pavement before the truck ran them over. There were four of them, down from the initial eight they had seen outside. One of them casually fired random bursts into the trailer, the bullets ripping into the side like it was tissue paper. The second riddled the back of the cab with bullets, at least keeping Vaughn's head down, if he hadn't already gotten out.

The remaining two gunmen were focused primarily on Jack, and they weren't going to be persuaded to seek out employment elsewhere.

"Where's the fucking cavalry?" Vaughn said into the radio.

A split second later, a CTU hummer that had been dispatched not long after they had made their initial report about Sark, drove on to the scene. Both windows opened up with a stream of assault rifle fire, cutting down the remaining enemies with ease.

Jack popped up from the desk, and swept the area with his handgun. There were footsteps behind him, and he turned to see Sydney's father, Vaughn, and Curtis Manning.

Bauer glanced as some of the CTU tactical officers swept past him, then looked to the others. "How many hostiles are still in the hotel?"

The elder Bristow said automatically, "According to our instruments, only a couple are left in the interior."

'That doesn't make sense," Jack said. "I'd expect Sloane to leave behind some kind of rear guard to keep us from finding him."

"There may be another explanation," Mr. Bristow said. "All of our heat detectors for this building cut off at ground level. I had Marshall check the blueprints to the hotel; the Northern has a sub-basement."

"Which direction?"

Before Sydney's father could answer Vaughn, a modest sized explosion shook the hotel, shattering all the windows on the first floor, and releasing a small fireball into the lobby from out of two of the stairwell exits.

"Let me guess," Vaughn said. "it's that way?"

"Call the fire department and make sure the building isn't going to collapse on us," Jack told his companions. "Then get back on the Marshall, and find out how many exits there are to this building. Sloane didn't do this for effect."

**11:15:22/11:15:23/11:15:24/11:15:25**

Sark had been right about Sloane's desire for an exit—the tunnel was lined with miniature light fixtures, and secured with beams. This led Sydney to what should have been an obvious conclusion.

"This tunnel was here way before Sloane showed up," she told Sark who was walking a few feet ahead of her.

"Right on the button, as always," Sark said, wiping some sweat off his brow. "It was owned by one of the shell corporations that Elena Derevko owned when she was in charge of the Covenant. Los Angeles has one of the largest sewer systems in the nation, and she found ways to utilize it to connect all of the properties that the Covenant owned. I can only assume for greater access in case of situations like this."

"How can you not know for sure?' Sydney asked. "At one point you were America's top man in the organization."

"Which didn't mean I was in on every secret meeting," Sark told her, as they continued on. "I didn't even know Elena Derevko was involved until after you and your associates helped neutralize it. "

"Then how did Sloane know about it if he wasn't part of the Covenant until he supposedly joined?"

"Why are you asking Julian?"

A voice that by all rights shouldn't have been speaking was now talking again. Now only that, but he was on his feet, his eyes open and aware.

Even given what she had seen not fifteen minutes ago, Sydney was still staggered. "I didn't think you'd be up to talking," she began slowly. "Fuck, I figured that your first move after coming back would be to finish killing the man who brought the wolf to your door."

Moving carefully, Sloane pushed aside the man who had been holding up. "Give me your weapon, " he ordered.

"Don't do anything dumb, Arvin," Sark was now speaking with his old level of confidence. "If it wasn't for me, you'd be in CTU custody now."

"If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have gotten shot in the heart," Sloane told him.

Sark smiled. "As for that, I would blame your shoddy hiring practices for bodyguards. I would blame them, but I suspect they're both dead by now."

Sloane's eyes narrowed. "If you prefer, I could just blame you for putting CTU onto us."

"If you really believe that, you've spent the last three years significantly underestimating the abilities of the people who work there," Sark pointed out. "They got Wang, Anna, and Irina all on their own. Somehow Bauer managed to break a woman that the KGB and the CIA hadn't been able to get anything out of for thirty years. You really think that they wouldn't have found you even without my help?"

"So now you're not denying that you sold me out," Sloane said, lifting his gun on Sark

"They were _going_ to find you anyway," Sark argued. "If I didn't pretend that I was switching sides again, we'd never have gotten our hands on her at all. As it is, we now have a way to get to Irina and Sydney's daughter before the deadline. Unless, of course, you changed the fallback strategy?"

There was a long pause as Sloane considered this. "Let's say I haven't," he began. "Give me a reason that I still shouldn't do to you what Sydney just did to me."

"They don't have any tracers on us, I blew the only way in, and CTU has no idea what our next step is," Sark told him. "And, in case you haven't noticed, you're running out of warm bodies, unless you have the number for 1-800-Dial-A-henchman. We still have a deadline to beat, and you can't pull this off without me."

There was another pregnant pause. Finally, Sloane lowered his weapon. "Don't misinterpret this, " he said slowly. "I don't believe for a moment that you're trustworthy. But there as an issue of time, and if you're the only way that this solution can be carried out, then I'll give you a little more time."

"You've never trusted me, Arvin," Sark's cavalier tone belied the sentence. "It's been the constant of our relationship. But I want this to work out as much as you do, if not more—I don't have immortality yet, you do."

"You just want the fruits of the labor," Sloane said. "Betray me again, and I'll make sure you never see another sunrise."

**11:22:13/11:22:14/11:22:15**

"How long until the place is secure?" Dixon asked Jack over his cell..

"Fire and safety are just finishing up," Jack said grimly. "From the preliminary reports, it looks like the explosion was localized to the area around to the western section of the hotel and the subbasement."

"There any risk that the Northern will collapse if you do something funky?"

"If Sloane wanted to blow the entire hotel, he could have done just that," Jack reminded him. "For some reason, total destruction was not part of his MO this time, only getting away."

"He did a pretty thorough job of it," Mr. Bristow said , as he came back from the entrance into the lobby. "Curtis's team just finished their first sweep of the place. There's no sign of Sydney, Sark or Sloane."

"If Sloane was even there." A new voice had entered the conversation.

"Tony, I heard him over the cell," Jack reminded him. "We all did."

"And you know as well as I do how effectively recordings can be manufactured and manipulated," Tony told him. "The fact of the matter is, you still don't have any hard evidence that Sloane was there at all or if he's still alive."

"Is that the idea that Division is forcing down your throat?" Mr. Bristow asked.

"Jack, you told me over a year ago that you saw Sloane blasted into atoms," Dixon reminded him. "If he didn't get the immortality and imperviousness that came with this prophecy, how the hell did he survive?"

Unfortunately, Jack had yet to come up with an explanation for that. "You don't think it's possible he used another one of those duplicates that Elena Derevko helped design?" he asked

"Sloane wouldn't have let anything keep him from realizing his quest," Dixon paused. "Which is one of the reasons I'm willing to argue that if there was a way to beat death, Sloane would have found it."

That was a little further than Jack was willing to go, but he didn't think that argument would help his case.

"To answer your question, Division thinks that your info on Sloane is bullshit, and is still pretty pissed that you essentially allowed Sark to walk off with Sydney," Tony told them. "And in all honesty, I'm pretty pissed that you made that decision unilaterally, and without putting the proper tracking devices or microphones on her."

"Sark would have gotten rid of them at the first opportunity whether he was working with or without Sloane," Mr. Bristow pointed out. "Besides, we found electronics near the front entrance that's around Sloane's level of technology. Sydney would not have gotten through it without trackers being detected."

"All that's well and good, but you still haven't told us, how the hell you're going to find Sark or Sloane without access to that kind of tech," Dixon pointed out.

"We're going over the bodies of the hostiles," Jack told them. "All of them had cells and PDA's. At least one of them has to have something to lead back to them."

"Maybe we don't have to go that far." Both men looked up as Vaughn, who had headed towards the subbasement the second that they had allowed him into the building, returned to the lobby.

"Find anything?"

"Bad news/ good news. The explosion did lead from the sub- basement. The rubble will take hours to comb through and we don't have the time. Which hurts us because according to Marshall, there's sewer access that led outside."

"So that was there exit strategy," Jack muttered.

"So what's the good news?" Sydney's father asked.

"We found this just outside the elevator to the subbasement." Vaughn took out a small laptop. "Whoever owned this thing didn't have time to encrypt any of the data on it."

"What did you find?" Jack asked.

"A series of building schematics," Vaughn said, tapping some buttons on the keyboard . "I'm having Kim run them through CTU's databases The first two buildings she uncovered were originally owned by Star-Crossed Industries, and we know from earlier mission that was a shell-corporation for the Covenant, and by extension Elena Derevko."

This got everybody's attention. "You think Sloane would use these as hideouts?" Tony asked.

"Sloane's never been one to create when he could steal," Jack Bristow reminded them. "You found this in the elevator?"

"Yeah."

"Sloane wouldn't just leave a potentially valuable instrument like that unguarded in a place like that," Sydney's father said bluntly.

"Maybe he didn't have anything to do with its location," Jack said.

"What do you mean?"

"Sark gave us his word that he would help us track Sloane," Jack pointed out. "In a twisted way, that means something to him. He proved that the last time that we captured Anna."

"Let's find something on this that actually helps," Vaughn said. "Because I'd rather not have the world's fate rest on Julian Sark's word."

**11:31:38/11:31:39/11:31:40/11:31:41**

"This tunnel, it does lead somewhere?" Sydney asked almost impudently.

This time, Sloane answered. "If we follow it for another five minutes, we will end up in the in a waterfront house just outside of Topanga Canyon."

"That's a hell of a walk," Sydney pointed out. "Why the hell would you want to have your hotel connected to that?"

Sloane considered this. "I suppose questioning the resident Judas never occurred to you?" he asked. Sark didn't even bother to respond to this

"I don't trust anything this man says as a rule," Sydney said. "I was opposed to this entire trip, but he convinced Division that he was willing to sell out. I'm not feeling particularly vindicated by being right." She stopped walking and turned to face Sloane. "I saw you die in Russia. How did you survive getting killed? Why don't you do what you do best when Rimbaldi's involved—pontificate. Explain why I have been burdened with being the Chosen One."

Arvin smiled congenially. "Who am I to explain the mind of the ineffable."

Sydney arched a brow. "Rimbaldi's certainly effed us enough times."

Sloane's smiled faded and he kept walking, Sydney easily keeping pace. "You're wrong about one part. Elena figured out the formula. Given that both you and your mother were considered by different interpretation of Rimbaldi's work to be the chosen one, she decided to do a lot of research on her side of the family tree."

"That must have been a trip down Memory Lane," Sydney said, not willing to admit that this same idea had come to her many years ago.

"It wasn't easy," Sloane admitted. "Even Elena was not sure of her family history beyond her parents. Eventually, she managed to learn what she needed.

"In the middle of the fifteenth century, when Rimbaldi was at the height of his genius, he began to work on an elixir, which roughly translates to 'Ascensio', meaning a higher level. " Sydney had been right about Sloane's need to talk, though none of the men took their eyes off her. Even if one of them rolled his eyes. _They_ must have heard this before. "Rimbaldi was never exactly clear what this was—"

"Is he ever?"

"—only that once in a person's blood, it would be part of their genetic makeup. His journals only indicate that he gave it to a single woman-- his mistress, a courtesan named Marina Pameli, though it was rumored that she was the illegitimate daughter of Antonin Sforza—"

"What exactly was this elixir supposed to do?" Sydney cut him off.

"According to Elena's research, this potion was mixed with some of Rimbaldi's genius, though not even he is willing to tell how he did that. Though we know he managed to be in Nadia's head. For the next four hundred years, all the woman of Marina's bloodline-- and it was not untainted to begin with-- went on to live lives full of wealth and success."

"Until my mother's generation," Sydney argued.

"You can't deny that her life has been anything short of extraordinary. Not peaceful," Sloane pointed out hastily, "but extraordinary... Rimbaldi was afraid of the direction civilization was taking, even in the Renaissance. He believed that unless things changed radically, the world would slide into chaos. So he created a formula that supposedly would bring about a calming effect on the rest of society."

"Killing off 99 of the population doesn't strike me as particularly peaceful," Sydney argued.

"Extreme problems require radical treatments," Sloane said, in that casual manner Sydney had always found almost frightening. "Elena understood that. So did Irina, after a fashion."

Before Sydney could answer this, he added: "We've arrived."

The tunnel had come to an abrupt end. In front of them was a stepladder leading to a small slotted wooden door that was over their heads.

"Open it," Sloane instructed two of the men guarding them.

As they climbed the ladder, Sydney asked: "What does any of this have to do with what I saw happen to you less than an hour ago?"

"Elena Derevko was a great help to me in many ways," Sloane told her. "But we came to a parting of the ways as to how to bring about the radical change." He paused. "Her solution was far more... final than mine."

"Comparing two lunatics solutions doesn't make either one any saner," Sydney pointed out.

Sloane chose to ignore this. "With the help of some very valuable people—most of whom died in the quest—I was able to locate another device of his—one that could only be access with some of the Chosen One's DNA."

By now the door had been opened, and Sloane and Sark indicated with their weapons that Sydney was to go ahead of them. "Who?" Sydney demanded. "Was it me or Nadia that unlocked this special gate?"

For the first time since he'd started talking, Sloane hesitated for an instant. "At the time, I wasn't certain which one of you it was," he admitted. "So I used samples of both to get where I needed to go."

He regained his equilibrium as they walked into the property. "There in a cavern in Mongolia, I found what I'd been searching for all this time. The device Rimbaldi used to bring about life eternal. The device I needed to carry out his final solution. Once I had that, I no longer needed Elena's money and infrastructure in order to carry out the plan. I'd left enough information with your father at APO to know that whatever team he led to find me would be able to get her out of the way."

Suddenly, Sydney had had more than enough. Even though she knew it was in her best interest to keep Sloane stall long enough for Jack and the rest of her people to find her, she could not tolerate be around this madman lunacies any longer.

"Hell of a game you played," she said almost casually. "From where I was standing it looked an awful lot like you were playing for keeps."

"You were always good at seeing what you want to see," Sloane said callously.

"It even looked like you were willing to sacrifice Nadia. Tell me, Sloane," Sydney began, "were you really willing to use Nadia as Rimbaldi prophesied or was that also part of the act?"

She knew she'd struck a nerve almost instantly. The brief expression that flickered across his face was a cry of pain for anyone else who was almost normal. "I will not let anyone stop me from doing what needs to be done," he said in a lower tone.

"And that includes treating your flesh and blood like lab rats," Sydney said in a tone just as cold.

"Don't talk that way."

"Nadia got stabbed earlier today, did you know that?" Sydney asked.

Now Sloane actually blinked twice—by his standards, that was almost screaming. "I don't want to hear this."

"Anna did it. Neatly drove a knife into her lung. Lucky she didn't die on the table," Sydney continued to speak in that dispassionate way that she had long loathed of everyone else.

The skins on Sloane's face was so taut, it looked like dried leather. "Shut up,"

"Why? Because you nearly lost part of the prophecy? It can't be because you care about her, because that would mean you had a soul or a conscience—"

Sloane slapped her in the face, hard. "Shut up!"

Sydney almost tasted blood, but not even that could hide the bitter triumph she felt. "You may be immortal or indestructible, or whatever the fuck you want to call it," she said, "but you're still nothing more than a pathetic shell of a man. I can't believe I made so much out of you."

There was a long silence. Then Sloane turned to one of the hostiles who wasn't guarding Sydney. "Start contacting the rest of our people and get them ready to move. CTU could come through the door any moment; I don't think any of us want to be here when they show up. Sark," he reluctantly turned to him, "contact our people in the government. Tell them we're going to have move to our fallback position." Sloane looked at his guards. "Keep your full attention on her," he almost growled. "She says anything else, kneecap her. Both legs." He looked at her. "Alive, but not unhurt. I believe that's how your friend Mr. Bauer likes to play this game."

**11:43:16/11:43:17/11:43:18/11:43:19**

Going through the laptop had taken more time than any of them had wanted to spend, but even though there were some definite leads in the laptop, it had taken Chloe nearly ten minutes to get it sorted so that it was legible.

"You're telling me that for once we have too much information on where a terrorist might be?" Jack asked with disbelief apparent, even over the cell.

"I don't know if Sark really intended to leave us," Nadia told Jack, "but all of the information that we have here ties into previously unknown Covenant strongholds. Assuming that Sloane really is committed to this plan, it does seem kind of foolish that he'd actually hide out somewhere that we already associated with him."

"Nobody's ever been able to fathom Sloane's thinking," Jack had noted the way Nadia had referred to her father, and decided not to pick at that wound. "Besides, he and Sark left in a hell of a hurry. He probably doesn't know the information is in our hands yet. Maybe he thinks that one of them will offer temporary safety."

"Maybe, but that may not become an issue much longer," Nadia said reluctantly.

"What are you talking about?"

"It took us the better part of five hours, but Marshall finally managed to translate another part of the document. There were some numbers in the prophecy," Nadia told him. "If the formula is to work properly, the sacrifice—which I can only assume is the bloodletting—has to take place at a certain time. By the break of dawn today. According to the National Weather Service that's going to happen at 5:48 A.M." she told him. "All we have to do is hold out a little more than six hours, and it won't matter a bit what Sloane tries to do."

"Maybe, but that could also mean that Sloane's not in transit," Jack pointed out. "According to what Sark told us, he just needs to dump 'the sacrifice' in the Pacific Ocean. That one stretches pretty too far west."

"Call a spade a spade, Jack," Nadia said with some bitterness. "Don't start getting tactful on my account. It doesn't suit you."

"I'm not saying that to spare your feelings," Jack told her. "Like I told Dixon and Tony half an hour ago, I'm not a hundred percent sure that I buy what Sark was trying to sell us. Point is, the three people whose blood he needs are in one of the most heavily guarded facilities in the country," Jack argued.

"Like that's ever stopped either of them from trying to get what they want," Nadia countered.

Before Jack could come up with a counter argument, Kim ran up to her. "I think we've found what we're looking for," she said.

"Hang on," Nadia walked over to the room where Tony and Dixon were gathered and Chloe was gathering data. "Jack, Kim thinks she's found something."

"I'm been communicating with Marshall going through the blueprints we found on the laptop," Kim told everyone. "Of all of the former buildings, only two were in a five-mile radius of the hotel. Assuming that they escaped underground, which has to be a given, there are three locations within a five mile radius."

"That sounds a little arbitrary," Dixon said.

"Any further and it wouldn't make sense to go underground," Jack pointed out.

"The nearest location is a beach house in Topanga Canyon," Kim told her. "It's also in a pretty isolated section. Address is 1623 Kingsley Place. "

"Chloe, can you retask a satellite over that location?" Tony asked her.

"It's a going to take me a couple of minutes," Chloe told them. "But according to the address, you're less than six minutes out."

"All right," Jack said. "And Tony, however much of this bullshit prophecy you want to believe, Sloane's on a clock. Knowing Sloane, he's going to make every effort to get his hand on you Irina and Isabelle. If Sark really has gone over, he probably told them that they're at CTU, which means that he's going to make some kind of play to get at them."

"That's borderline suicidal," Tony pointed out.

"Except that half our people are in the field dealing with this crisis," Dixon reminded them. "Our numbers are spread a little thin."

"All right, I'll contact District, see if they can lend us an extra unit."

"You're asking too much of me."

"I don't want to hear any more excuses from you," came the voice on the other end. "We are going to launch an attack within the hour, and you're going to make sure there's a clear path." He paused. "Unless Maya's life means so little to you..."

"No!" Erin Driscoll of Division managed to stop her voice from quivering. "I'll do it."

"Good. And about the other matter?"

"Anna Espinoza is scheduled to be transferred in an hour," Driscoll told him reluctantly. "When I have access, I'll get you the route."

"You'd better. Or your daughter will learn that there are worse things to fear than the voices in her head."

**11:52:46/11:52:47/11:52:48**

"Have you contacted the men we need?" Sloane demanded of Sark, as he walked back into the beach house.

"Another team is being put together," Sark told Sloane. "They'll be ready to make their move within the hour. Transportation will be pulling up any minute."

Sydney had been tossed on a couch, was cuffed with her hands behind her back and had her legs tied together. She looked up and said, "I guess that means you're moving on to a contingency plan."

"I told you to shoot her if she spoke again," Sloane told him.

The instant the guard on the right raised his weapon, she kicked her legs out, catching him in the throat, his windpipe crushed. As her legs came down, she rolled out of the bed, her shoulders going straight into the other guard's stomach, making him bend in half over her. She tensed her legs and straightened, using her upper body to throw him over her shoulder.

The pistol came out of nowhere as it smacked her across the mouth. "Next time," Sloane said calmly, "the bullet goes into your stomach. Only unlike Jack Bauer, I can keep you alive without surgery."

Sydney blinked, then her eyes narrowed. "How did you know that Jack gut shot my mother?" She frowned a moment, her thoughts moving through possible candidates as she said, "You've got someone in CTU. Who is it?"

"Think whatever you like," Sloane said in a calm voice. "I'm not going to give you any help connecting the dots.

He turned his attention back to Sark. "We're getting out of here now," he told him. "We've got a schedule to maintain, and thanks to you I'm still two items short."

"They'll be ready to make their move soon," Sark said.

This little dialogue was full of revelations. "So what, you're planning to attack CTU now?' Sydney asked.

"For the love of God, knock her unconscious," Sloane said between clenched teeth to his other guard

Sydney watched as the guard tried to right himself. "Remember what happened to your friend."

Just then, Sloane's phone rang. "What?" he snapped as he picked up the phone. "All right, we'll meet you outside. " He turned to Sark. "Our ride's here."

"Thank the lord," Sark said. "We couldn't afford to lose anymore help."

Vaughn held the cell phone tightly in one hand as he held his seatbelt tightly in the other. Letting Jack drive was never high on his list of exciting activities—mainly because he wanted to survive the trip—but in this case, speed was of the essence, and Bauer should have been a racecar driver, the way he pushed it.

"Have you got satellite up around the address?" Vaughn asked Marshall.

"I'm working on it, but like I said, it's pretty isolated," Marshall told him. "Which is probably the reason Sloane chose this address in the first place."

Jack said he abruptly hit the brakes. "We may not need it,"

"What are you talking…?" Vaughn trailed off. They were less than half a mile from the address they had been given from CTU, but it was clear that this was a relatively quiet suburban neighborhood. Therefore the fact that there were now a group of people coming out of a house en masse into a fleet of cars seemed to be a pretty clear indicator they were in the right spot.

Jack took out his night vision goggles. "I count five figures coming out of the location," he told Vaughn.

"You see Sydney?"

"Hold on," There at the rear of the party, two agitated looking hostiles were pulling a heavily bound Sydney behind them. "There she is." Jack got on the line with Marshall. "How far out is our back up?"

"Mr. Bristow will be there any minute now," Marshall told them.

Unfortunately, at just that moment Sloane, whose attention had been somewhat divided while Sydney was being put into the first of the vehicles, looked ahead, and noticed the faintest flash of a mirror as the binoculars were adjusted.

"Tell the people in the lead car to drive out to the back of the block as quickly as possible" he said almost casually to the henchman on his left. "Assault weapon fire will be useless against it, but I want you to have all your men firing anyway."

The guard took out his radio and began to relay the instructions to his boss.

"Looks like we're taking a ride together," he said as he ducked into the car with Sydney.

"We've been made. Get down!" Vaughn yelled in the split second before the head car began turning its fire on them.

Fortunately, they were now in a CTU Hummer, which had bulletproof windows. Unfortunately, this also meant that they couldn't shoot back. Furthermore, the body of the vehicle, while strong, was vulnerable to armor-piercing rounds, and they had both already seen that Sloane's crew had been packing this kind of ammunition.

"Any ideas?" Vaughn asked.

"Can you tell what kind of vehicle they're driving?" Jack asked, as he pulled the car out of park.

"Looked like a modest sized sedan." Vaughn thought he knew where Jack's head was going and, though he didn't like the idea, also didn't think that they had a lot of options.

"Make sure you're belted in," Jack said grimly, as he began to drive the vehicle straight at the oncoming car.

What Jack was doing ultimately came down to a game of chicken, only most people who played didn't have two guys armed with Uzis simultaneously firing at them. Had Sloane been the ones behind the wheel, Vaughn might have been concerned-- the man was many things, but he couldn't be accused of cowardice. But, while these men may have been employed by Sloane, they didn't have Jack's determination.

They weren't that bad, though -- the cars were less than five feet apart before the driver abruptly swerved to the left It was, however, too late for their purpose-- the Hummer slammed through the body of the car, before falling backwards.

"You all right?" Jack shouted.

"Any crash you can walk away from," Vaughn said, as he tried to have his heartbeat regain a normal rhythm. "Where's Sloane?"

"Where do you think?" Jack said, as he gestured to the outside.

What little damage the car had taken was near the front end. Unfortunately, this meant that their radio was out. He took out his cell phone instead.

"This is Bauer," he said. "Right now, Sloane is headed west towards the Pacific Coast Highway. Notify Jack Bristow and tell him to send all pursuit in that direction!"

"We're on it," Dixon told him. "What about you?"

"Sloane sacrificed one of his cars in order to get his freedom," Jack told him. "We're in no condition to carry on with the chase. Get another unit out here to help secure the location."

"What the fuck, Jack?" Vaughn asked.

"Sark left us some kind of clue the last hideout of Sloane's we found," Vaughn reminded him. "Even if he has switched sides, I'm betting that there still is something at this how to help us figure out whatever Sloane's next move is."

"Maybe," Vaughn said, "but Sloane isn't that stupid. Two hideouts of his get busted in a little more than an hour, he's going to know Sark had something to do with it."

"So what's the down side to that?"

"Assuming that you're right," Vaughn reminded him, "and Sloane takes out Sark, that means that Sydney has no one watching her back. I know what she's capable of handling all those men, but so does he, which means he's going to put as many extra men around her as he can manage. And right now, we don't know how big an army that could be."

"He won't kill Sydney yet," Jack pointed out. "Not until he gets what he needs from her."

"You and I both know that there's a world of things we'd be surprised that she can live through."

"Then we better be sure we find her first."

**11:59:57/11:59:58/11:59:59/12:00:00**


	19. 12:00 AM TO 1:00 AM

Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

**The Following Takes Place Between 12:00 A.M. and 1:00 A.M.**

_Well, it could be worse_, Sydney thought in the back of the car_, he could have remembered to kneecap me._

At that moment, Sloane was maintaining his placid exterior, but Sydney could tell that he was juggling so many things that he was having trouble maintaining his control. She knew if she could find a way to disrupt what little calm he had left, she might be able to escape or at least give CTU the edge in finding her.

"Are we being pursued?" Sloane asked the driver.

"No," the driver said, "and it shouldn't be that difficult to tell if we are." Though it was normally one of the busiest stretches of road in the city, right now the Pacific Coast Highway was practically deserted.

"Whatever danger will face isn't going to come from the rear," Sloane pointed out. "If Mr. Bauer and CTU really knew where we were, they'll have put up a series of road blocks along the way as procedure. Not to mention helicopters."

"And I suppose someone of your genius has figured out a way of learning exactly where they are," Sydney said sarcastically.

"I wouldn't try being clever given your situation," Sloane pointed out. "Remember, I'm the only one in this car who can survive a head on collision."

"You won't risk your precious sacrifice," Sydney taunted him.

"I need three generations of the Chosen One's bloodline," Sloane's lips puckered. "As you reminded everyone, I do have more than one option."

Sloane spoke almost casually about this, which worried Sydney. If the idea of hurting his daughter no longer bothered him as it had less than half an hour ago, it meant two things: one, Sloane was now willing to accept the death of the daughter as acceptable collateral damage for this ritual, and two, she had lost one of her major sore point to manipulate Sloane with. Neither possibility was very appealing.

"However," Sloane took out his cell, "let's see if we can avoid that."

He dialed another number. "Mandy," he said over the phone. "I need to know how to maneuver the roadblocks on the Pacific Coast Highway."

"I'll handle it," a cold female voice said on the other end.

"Make it fast," Sloane told her.

"So what hideout are we headed to now?" Sydney demanded. "How much real estate did the Covenant own in LA before you took over?"

"I'm getting real tired of your demanding information," Sloane said, and nodded to one of the men on Sydney's left.

Suddenly, there was a pinch in Sydney's shoulder. She had just enough time to register it before losing consciousness.

**12:04:38/12:04:39/12:04:40**

"Have you spotted them yet?" Nadia asked Jack Bristow.

"Not so far," Sydney's father admitted.

"He only had a two minute lead on us," Tony reminded them.

"When the President declared a curfew earlier, it basically left the streets deserted. He can go as fast as he wants in any direction." Mr. Bristow reminded them. "That and we never got a clear picture of whatever vehicles left when he and Sark got the hell out of there."

"Hey, don't look at me," Chloe said agitatedly. "There were no satellites to --"

"We know, Chloe," Tony pointed out. "There are highway cameras everywhere on the Pacific Coast Highway. Go through their network, and see if you can get any picture of those cars."

"Fine," Chloe said in a huff, knowing that without a clear direction or landmark, they were back in needle-in-haystack territory.

"We're coordinating with LAPD to set up roadblocks and checkpoints throughout the highway," Dixon told them. "Unfortunately with all the riots and general chaos, their numbers are spread pretty thin, too."

At that moment, Michelle walked up. "Tony, Driscoll from Division says she needs to speak with you. Now."

"I'll take it in my office," Tony told them reluctantly. "Keep me updated," he told the others.

"Almeida," he said as he picked up the phone.

"Tony, I understand that you gave an order to the LAPD to set roadblocks along the Pacific Coast Highway," Driscoll said in her stern schoolmistress' voice.

"CTU is currently in pursuit of the suspect who is responsible for all of today's events," Tony told her just as bluntly. "It seemed like this was worth the extra manpower."

"Which individual is that, Julian Sark or Arvin Sloane?"

Tony had been dealing with Driscoll and her nags all day, and by now he was used to her making sure that every i was dotted and every t was crossed.. For the first time, however, he thought he could sense the faintest tinge of emotion in her voice. For someone who prided herself on her reputation as an ice queen, this struck Tony as a little strange.

"Tony?"

"At the current time, we don't know which of the suspects is responsible," Tony said carefully. "It could be one or both of them. "

"One who you had in custody earlier today, and one who was declared dead a year ago," Driscoll responded.

"Erin--"

"The Commissioner of Police has called me three times in the past hour," Driscoll said in that detached, lecturing tone she could use. "They've been short on manpower since nightfall. The last thing he wants to here is that you've got his men manning roadblocks looking for a villain who doesn't exist."

"What do you want Erin?" Tony said tiredly.

"Where on the highway you've set up the roadblocks. The Commissioner needs to know where his men are going."

"I'll get it to you as soon as--"

"Now, Tony." Again that frayed quality entered Erin's voice. "I've already got enough people pissed at me today. The sooner he's off my back, the sooner I'm off yours."

Tony really didn't need this irritation. "I'll text them to you now," he said wearily. "Anything else?"

"I understand that Irina Derevko's out of surgery."

"As of an hour ago, yes."

"District wants a man over to supervise interrogation."

This was just another thing that Tony didn't need. "Erin, we've got people here who are far more qualified to handle this—"

"Tony, the last time you interrogated her, she got a bullet in the stomach, and she still didn't give you everything she knew," Driscoll argued. "Right now, she's still our biggest lead to this virus, and we want to make sure that we can get any more information out of her without killing her."

Tony didn't want to have this argument, particularly because he almost agreed with her. "Fine, is there anything else?"

For the first time almost since he'd known her, Erin paused between orders. "I realize that it isn't easy dealing with all these demands" Driscoll said in that frayed tone again. "But somebody needs to do the unpleasant part of the work."

Tony then broke a rule of his own. "Something wrong?" he asked his superior with a rare note of compassion.

"Nothing," Driscoll said. "Just…. you've done a good job, today. I want you to know that."

In all the years he worked for CTU, Tony knew getting encouragement from this woman was like pulling teeth. And no matter how hard the work, or how great the effort, Driscoll never said thank you. But before he could even make a joke about it, the Division head had hung up.

**12:11:22/12:11:23/12:11:24/12:11:25**

"We're finished up inside," Jack told the CTU agents, who had just showed up with a second vehicle. "Anything come out of the roadblocks?"

"Not so far," the agent told him.

Jack frowned at this, but decided to hold his complaints to someone who could do something about it, and dialed Marshall.

"What do you need?"

"Did you manage to pin down which way Sloane was going?" Jack asked.

'Well, that's actually open for debate," Marshall said carefully. "See, according to the satellite, there were three cars that came to the address. One of them was the vehicle that hit you, the other two I managed to trace to the Highway. Problem is, I can't tell which vehicle Sloane or Sark or Sydney-- man, we have alliteration there -- got into about twenty minutes ago. The lighting's better on the Highway, and I was able to get good footage There's a dark blue Ford, and a silver Chevrolet."

"Considering who the passengers are, that's pretty low-key for either of them" Vaughn argued

"Now, the Ford went west, the Chevy went east. I've been trying to use the traffic cameras set up along the highway to figure out which is going where."

"And?" Jack pressed

"Trying to cover the whole highway isn't as easy as sounds," Marshall pointed out. "The most recent stop we caught the Ford at came five minutes ago, just off Pacific Coast Park. For some reason, the one heading west has been harder to pin down, which means he might be leaving LA."

"Sark could be in one, Sloane could be in the other," Vaughn pointed out.

"Or they could be using one of the cars as a decoy," Jack countered.. "Have either of the cars hit the roadblocks yet?"

"Coordinating with LAPD's been a problem, considering that they're as busy as we are," Marshall reminded him. "They didn't get on it until five minutes ago, and as you know they could've gotten really far in the lead time."

"Which of the cars is Jack Bristow tracking?"

"The Chevy."

"Take us east," Jack told the driver, as they turned onto the highway.

"Have you gotten anything off the corpse and the phone we found in the address?" Vaughn asked.

"Fingerprints identified the dead man as Gary Jessup, arrested twice for assault in the past en years." Marshall paused. "If this the level of help Mr. Sloane is getting for this, his standards have started have really dropped."

Privately Jack agreed, but didn't wasn't to show any sign of approval for Marshall's bizarre attitude of respect towards the man who had once left him for dead while he was still working for him. "The cell, Marshall?" he asked

"You had me busy working the highway, so I tasked it to Kim," he told him. "I'm putting her on."

Without any preamble, Kim said, "No surprise, Jessup had a scrambled cell. Seems to be the rule for the thugs today. It'll take time to sort through the calls, but I did manage to get one he made around an hour ago, before he and Sloane had their rendezvous."

" 'I'm telling you things are starting to come apart at the seams'," a male voice said. "Sloane thinks were going to have to use the girl.'"

"The guy's supposed to be some sort of master criminal, and _this _is the best play that he can come up with?' The voice was that of a female, and had enough icy reserve to make Jack wonder if there was yet another Derevko sister.

"I don't think we should be that pissed considering how much we're being paid.' Gary Jessup responded.

" 'Do you know what I had to go through to get to this woman? She lives in a fortress. Even with the papers, it took me an hour to get past the guards.'

"As long as you've got her, nothing else matters.' Jessup paused. 'He'll call you when he wants to put her into play.'

" 'He could have told me that himself.'

" 'He's busy plotting the end of the world if he's to be believed.'

'And how does this lunatic fit into this?' " the woman asked.

" 'Because of who her mother is'," A pause on the line. "'They need me to move. Just be ready.'"

The call terminated.

"Clever people," Vaughn said. "Even though their call is almost impossible to tap, they don't give anything away. "

"Any voiceprint match on the woman?" Jack asked.

"Nothing," Kim admitted.. "And I have no idea who they're talking about, except that it can't be Sydney or Isabelle."

"Maybe it has nothing to do with Sydney's family," Jack said thoughtfully. "'Guard' and 'lunatic' suggests some kind of institution. Have there been any major recorded incidents in any of them?"

"I'll check the police reports," Kim said.

"What are you thinking?" Vaughn asked. "This call won't get us any closer to finding Sydney."

"But it will get us closer to finding another link to Sloane," Jack said. "Someone's got to know his next stop, and we've got find it even if we can't find him on the highway."

**12:19:55/12:19:56/12:19:57/12:19:58**

"Just heard back from LAPD," Nadia told Michelle, "They've got officers set up at five mile intervals up and down the eastern section of the highway.

"I don't suppose they haven't found any sign of Sloane or Sark," Michelle asked.

Nadia shook her head. "Personally, I think that this is a wasted effort," she said in a remarkably neutral voice. "When Sloane doesn't want to be found, he does a very good job of staying hidden."

"Unless?" Michelle pressed.

"He's looking for something, which is this case is Isabelle and my mother." Nadia argued. "That's where he's going to stick his neck out."

"By now, he has to at least be thinking that we know this," Michelle countered. "Security's already at double strength."

"Since when has that stopped him in the past?" Nadia argued. "You put up a brick wall; he goes through it even if that means he crushes his skull in the process."

Michelle was inclined to agree with this logic. "Assuming you're right, how do we find him before that?"

"My mother's in recovery," Nadia said bluntly. "I think it's time we find out all of what she knows."

"You're not thinking of interrogating her yourself, are you?" Michelle asked.

"Everything else is occupied on something vital. I've been doing busy work for the last three hours. Plus I have a much better idea on how she thinks than anyone here. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't be doing this."

"For starters, there's still an executive order from the President barring you from being in the same room with her." Michelle pointed out.

"Yeah, that chain of logic was supposed to get my mother to spill her guts, figuratively, not literally," Nadia was starting to sound pissed. "You didn't even learn that Sloane was behind this, until we caught up with Sark. The stick really got us nowhere, I think it's time we go back to the carrot."

Michelle didn't really want to say what came next. "Nadia, while I'll admit that Jack's method was way over the line, I have to agree with him that we've given Irina far too many passes as it is. No one's going to be willing to give your mother a deal, and without that she has no incentive to give us anything back.

Just then Tony walked up to both of them. "A man from District is on his way up," he told them.

"What do the bean counters want now?" Michelle asked tiredly.

"They want Irina Derevko questioned."

"Is that their euphemism or yours?" Nadia asked.

"I don't know," Tony said honestly. "They've made it clear there are to be no more deals, and if we interrogate too harshly, she'll die, so I don't know how exactly they plan to get anything of value out of her."

"This is just Division's way of covering their ass," Michelle said.

"What else is new?" Tony asked rhetorically. "Look, they've made it clear that no one else from CTU is to interfere with their job, but since I trust them as far as I could reasonably throw them, I want somebody to keep at least one eye on them. I'm tapping the person who has the least on their plate," he looked right at Nadia, "which right now means you."

Nadia smiled wryly. "Four hours ago, you said I shouldn't be allowed anywhere near her. As a matter of fact you were rather emphatic about it."

Tony sighed. "Yeah, well four hours ago I wasn't dealing with a nuclear standoff with China, riots across the state, and the possibility of the human race being wiped out in a matter of hours. If I thought that Division shared any of these concerns, I'd be more than willing to let them handle it alone, but we all know they're made up of people who fiddle while LA -- and pretty much the rest of the world -- burns. This needs to be done right, and the only way that's going to happen is if someone who knows Irina Derevko can monitor her. Which means you."

"It's always nice to be vindicated by default," Nadia said ironically.

"Watch from the observation room in medical," Tony told her.

"How high up on the bureaucratic ladder is this guy?" Michelle asked.

"Someone from the Seattle field office. Guy named Tom Philby."

The security guard escorted the man calling himself Tom Philby into the medical room.

"I'm going to need one of your people to set up an outside server," Philby told the guard.

The guard who had verified Philby's credentials nodded. "I'll tell Director Almeida."

When the man was out of earshot, Philby took out his cell, and dial a number.

"Are you in?" a voice with a British accent asked.

"Yes," Philby said casually.

"How long before you can insert the worm?"

"Less than ten minutes."

**12:27:29/12:27:30/12:27:31/12:27:32**

When the car came to a stop, Sydney had no clear idea of where they were -- she wasn't even sure that they were in LA anymore. Then she realized something even more important. "What did you do with Sark?"

Sloane looked over his shoulder at her. "What makes you think I'll answer that question?"

"Because if you still trust him after everything he's done, you're even crazier than I thought you were," Sydney told him bluntly.

"I never trusted Sark to begin with," Sloane told him. "But even the bluntest chisel can be used by the most talented artist. I'm going to utilize it for as long as possible before discarding him." He gestured with his weapon. "Now get out of the car."

As she got out of the vehicle, Sydney tried to get a handle on their location, but the lighting was poor. All she could tell was that they were in what appeared to be a row of warehouses near some kind of pier, but that didn't rule much out. "If this is your base of operations, you really have been slumming it," she said as her guards guided her into an open building.

"Another primitive concept," Sloane told her. "You make it sound like I'm just a common criminal. I don't need a hideout, because very soon there will be no reason to hide. Besides, right now all your precious CTU could do if they found me is kill my men. The pain of death is no longer one has any relevance to me."

"They can still stop you from carrying out your insane plan."

"Your confidence in your co-workers is touching," Sloane said, "but unless they were able to mobilize the world's police, they'll never be able to stop them in time. If even one of the vials get through, tens of millions of people will die. The powers that be are going to be focusing all their energy on that. By comparison, I'll have no trouble getting away."

"You're the most wanted terrorist on the planet," Sydney argued.

"And right now, most of them believe that I am already dead," Sloane pointed out. "They're going to focus all their energy on Sark. And in case they aren't, I'm going to turn loose one more surprise."

He took out his cell, and dialed a number. "This is Sloane. Is your man in position?"

"We're just waiting for him to give us the word."

"What about the diversion?" Sloane asked.

"They should be ready to move now."

**12:32:19/12:32:20/12:32:21**

"What you mean you lost them?" Tony demanded of Chloe.

"The car heading east went through a tunnel at the Santa Monica intersection," Chloe replied patiently.

"We had a roadblock established going in and out of that tunnel," Tony argued.

"I don't know what to tell you," Chloe continued. "LAPD says that no suspicious vehicle came through on either end within the last fifteen minutes."

"And how do you know that?"

"Police report came from Division," Michelle told them.

Tony considered this, then took out his cell.

"Jack Bristow."

"It's Tony. Did you make any progress chasing that car?"

"This a private line?"

By now, Tony had gotten used to the extra level of paranoia from APO. "Of course," he said calmly

"They've done a pretty good job closing down the city. Besides us, only two other cars went past the roadblock at the tunnel." Mr. Bristow paused. "One of them was the car that we were chasing."

"Are you sure?"

"I just got off the phone with Marshall. Using the police cameras located on this stretch of the highway, he tracked the black Ford going east down the highway towards Santa Monica. The police say when they called in to make the report on the car, they received a Code 1 verification to let it go by."

"But the only people with that level of authority are directors," Tony said.

"Hence my request to make this a private call," Mr. Bristow told him.

"Are you accusing me of something?"

"That depends," Mr. Bristow said. "How many people at CTU knew the exact locations of the roadblocks?"

"Jack, we've been monitoring this tracking for almost an hour," Tony assured Sydney's father. "No one at CTU received any calls from the LAPD."

Mr. Bristow considered this for a moment. "Outside of the people at your office, who else knew about the location of the roadblocks?"

A very plausible idea was beginning to gather weight in Tony's mind. "Driscoll at Division," he said slowly. "She called me less than half an hour ago saying she needed to coordinate with LAPD."

"The same people who brought us Ryan Chappelle," Mr. Bristow said coolly. "Can you get her into custody without a fight?"

"Not without attracting some kind of suspicion," Tony said. "I'll contact Hammond; tell her we need to discuss--"

Suddenly the voice on the phone was interrupted by a huge blast of static. "Mr. Bristow? Mr. Bristow?" No response

He ran over to Michelle. "What the hell is happening with our communications?"

"I don't know," Michelle said, sounding just as concerned. "Our computers and servers just went haywire simultaneously."

Tony and Michelle ran over to the center. "What the fuck's going on?"

"I don't know," Chloe said just as frantically. "Someone must have downloaded some kind of virus into our comlink!" She was typing on the keys. "Nothing's responding!"

A horribly plausible idea had just occurred to Tony. "What about our interior security?" he demanded.

"Everything's going haywire!" Chloe shouted.

Suddenly Michelle remembered something, and ran over to Sydney's station. "Sydney hooked us up with a Marshall designed cell a few months back, remember?"

Tony did. "Who do we contact?"

"The only people who can get us through this."

Nadia was dimly aware of the fact that the lights had started flickering and that there was feedback coming from the speakers, but right now her focus was narrowed to a more important matter.

Right now, there was only one person in CTU who didn't seem the least bit concerned by what was going on, and Nadia was betting that it was because he had caused the firestorm. In the past ten minutes, District Agent Philby had made no effort to interrogate Irina Derevko. Instead, he had made a couple of phone calls, typed on the nearest computer screen in the room, then went out into the hallway.

_I should have known better than to trust anyone recommended by Division, _Nadia thought as she reached for her weapon.

Though she was preparing for a fight, Nadia had doubts whether she had the capacity to engage in one. Her bitching to Tony and Dixon aside, she had undergone minor surgery less than seven hours ago. She was barely able to handle desk work right now, and she had no business going after another rogue agent. Nevertheless, since the cavalry didn't seem to be heading here, she'd have to hope adrenaline would help her carry the day.

She was halfway to the agent, when he saw her, pulled his gun, and fired two shots. Her reflexes allowed her to dodge the bullets, but it cost her as she almost wobbled when she tried to stand back up.

She reached for her phone before remembering that she had tried it a couple of minutes earlier, and had gotten no reception. These people had to be working for her father-- she didn't know any other reason they'd be carrying that kind of tech support.

She began walking as quickly as she could in the direction that Philby had been heading.

**12:40:06/12:40:07/12:40:08**

Tony had managed to reach Marshall on the cell, and he was now in the process of figuring out what was going on in CTU.

"It's gotta be one of those new Australian-designed communication worms," Marshall said, as he remotely tapped into their server. "Just type in a few keys, and you can block out all communications and destroy all the firewalls within a six-block radius."

"Can you stop it?" Tony yelled into the phone.

"If it were easy as pushing a few buttons, I'd have done it already," Marshall said. "I can fix it, but it's going to take at least ten minutes."

Dixon ran up to Tony. "Our security cameras dead, and I can't reach any of the agents on the outside perimeter," he told him.

"What about the cameras?"

"All dead," Dixon said. "These guys shut us down."

"Oh, that's all we need," Chloe said, as she typed on the keyboard.

"Now what?" Tony demanded.

"The electronic locks to the rooms," Chloe began. "The control mechanism must have been overridden. Someone's sealing everybody in."

Dixon ran back to the entrance, but it was too late.

"Fuck!"

It had taken them the better part of half an hour, but Vaughn and Jack had finally found the Chevrolet that had been heading down the Pacific Coast Highway. They still had no idea whether this was some kind of decoy or not, but both of them had agreed that they no longer had any time to dick around.

"Is the roadblock in place?" Vaughn said over the phone to their backup team.

"You'll hit in half a mile," Curtis told them over the phone.

"All right, get the chain of spikes ready. And be extra careful," Vaughn warned. "These haven't been the kind of the people who do kamikaze runs, but this might be when they start."

After all the effort they'd taken in order to run this guy to ground, the capture was almost anticlimactic. Less than a quarter of a mile from the roadblock, the chains went up, and the car traveled less than a hundred yards before it crawled to a stop.

Jack came out first holding a bullhorn. "Attention driver!" he shouted over the horn. "This is Jack Bauer of CTU. Open the car door, and step out of the vehicle now!"

There was just a long enough pause to concern Vaughn, but then the door opened, and the driver stepped out.

"Put your hands behind your head, and kneel down on the ground!" Jack ordered. The driver did just that so willingly that Vaughn was now ninety-five percent sure that it wasn't Sloane or Sark.

By the time Jack had reached the driver, he could verify that himself. "Get up," he ordered. He pushed the man into the car. "Where the fuck is Sloane?"

"Who?" the man had the nerve to ask

"Arvin Sloane, don't tell me you don't know the fucking name!"

"Sloane's dead," the man told him. "He's been dead for years."

Now Jack was even more pissed, if such a thing was possible. "Now is really not the time to start piling on the bullshit!" he snarled, as he took out his weapon and pointed it at the man's chest.. "I've had a lot of aggression building up all day, and right now I'm willing to take out of it against you, no matter who you fucking work for!"

An angry Jack Bauer could loosen the tongues of far stronger men, and the driver was no exception. "Sark isn't paying me nearly enough for this," he told him.

"You work for Sark?" Jack demanded.

"My orders were to rendezvous with one of our mercenaries, and deliver a payoff. There's a laptop for a computer transaction in the trunk."

By now, the other people at the roadblock had checked the vehicle for explosives. Finding none, Vaughn opened the truck to find the computer.

"Who is this mercenary?" Jack demanded.

"I only knew her as Mandy," the driver told them "The rendezvous was scheduled for the next twenty minutes, at which time there was to be an exchange. Money for a girl.."

"After which you were supposed to kill her?" Vaughn demanded.

"Not until I'd heard back from Sark," the man admitted.

"Where is Sark?" Jack pressed

"I don't know."

Jack pistol whipped the man.

"He said that he had two major pieces of business to take care of within the next hour," the driver said. "I don't know where or when, but that's what he told me."

.Just then, Vaughn's cell rang.

"Now is a really lousy time to--" He stopped mid-statement. "What? Well, why are we only learning this now?!" he demanded.

"What's going on?" Vaughn had paled noticeably.

"It's Marshall. Something's happening at CTU. Now."

**12:47:28/12:47:29/12:47:30/12:47:31**

It wasn't that hard to track Philby; all Nadia had to do was follow the trail of dead agents. What didn't make sense was that according to them, he was heading back towards the entrance. She didn't believed he created all this sound and fury, and then stealing away without doing what he had come to do..

Then Philby reappeared, and everything else fell away. "Freeze!" Nadia shouted, and trained her weapon on him.

"Well, this is an interesting twist," the hostile said. He didn't move, but he didn't drop his gun either.. "The wounded soldier is going to try and hold me prisoner."

"I'm not going to tell you again," Nadia said as she approached him.

Philby whirled around to fire. She shot him in the chest

"Nadia!" She turned to see Kim approaching with her weapon drawn. "You couldn't have winged him?"

"You really that think that this guy was our only problem?" Nadia pointed out.

Kim didn't answer. Nadia looked up, and saw why.

Seven heavily armed men were walking into the entrance. They were heavily armed and looking royally pissed.

"Drop your weapons," a man in a blue suit who appeared their leader ordered as they walked through the door. His accent was English, but not the same as Sark's

"You're going to kill us anyway," Kim shouted.

"My instructions are to use terminal force," the leader admitted. "However, I'd prefer not to shed blood until it was absolutely necessary. IF you drop your weapons, and don't put up any fight, you and colleagues might yet live to fight another day."

This was bullshit of the highest caliber, but Nadia didn't see many other options. They were outnumbered and outgunned. The only thing to do was at least pretend to play ball.

Nadia put down her weapon. Reluctantly Kim did as well. Two of the gunmen ran next to them, and put their weapons to their heads.

"Secure the entrance, make sure they don't have any backup. You two, find Derevko and the baby."

As the hostiles went to their location, Nadia took a look at the man who was leading this assault. "You know, I thought I knew all the spear carriers my father had working for him," she told him. "But I don't recognize you from any of his old stomping grounds."

"That's because I'm not a ghost from that man's Christmas Past," the head man told them. "I've been a free agent for the last four years."

"And you're not going to introduce yourself?" Kim asked. "Seems the polite thing to do after you've gone to all this trouble."

Blue Suit took a second look at him. "I recognize you," he said.

"Of course you do. You've probably got data sheets on this entire office," Kim said disdainfully

"No, that's not it," the man said. "You're Kim, aren't you? Jack's daughter?"

Knowing that Blue Suit was part of Jack's past was probably important, but for once that seemed to be a secondary concern. Nadia didn't like the look that this man-- whoever he was-- was fixing on Kim.

"When you were very young, Jack said he would do everything he could to protect you," the Brit was telling Kim. "Now here you are, right on the front lines. Guess his priorities have changed."

"I can take care of myself, " Kim countered.

"Really? You're being held prisoner by a small band of mercenaries in a government agency which has essentially become my property," Blue Suit said. "How exactly do you consider yourself safe?"

Before Kim could answer, the Brit's radio blared. "Sir, we've got a problem," a voice said.

"What is it, Tompkins?"

"Irina Derevko's going to be a bit of a problem to move, but we can manage her," Tompkins told him. "We're having trouble locating the baby, Isabelle."

The Brit considered this. "Reactivate the security cameras, and reenter the security room,' he told them. "One of the monitors will tell us where to find the Bristow's daughter."

"Cameras just went back online," Marshall told them.

'What did you do?" Tony asked.

"Not a thing," Marshall replied. "Which means they did it, and that they're looking for something."

"How long until you can break the locks on the doors?" Dixon demanded.

"Two minutes, " Dixon asked.

"Long enough for these people to get what they came for," Michelle muttered.

"How far out are reinforcements?" Chloe asked.

"Mr. Bristow's closer, but it's going to be at least five minutes before he gets out

"There's got to be something we can do," Tony said..

"Wait a minute," Chloe ran over to her keyboard. "If the cameras are back online, we can see who's behind this."

"What good will that do us now?" Dixon said.

"You asked for something we can do," Chloe countered, as she began typing. "At least this way we can see help chase down whoever's doing this violence."

Several seconds later, they were looking at the front entrance. Three men were standing guard over two women.

"Oh Christ," Dixon said. "They've got Nadia and Kim."

"At least they're still alive," Michelle argued.

"We just don't know for how long."

**12:55:11/12:55:12/12:55:13**

Given Irina's condition and the fact that Isabelle was being held in a secure part of the facility, Nadia had thought that it would take longer for these men to get them out. Instead, it took them less than two minutes to get what they came for.

"You people must have friends in high places," Kim mentioned. "Who gave you access to this facility?"

"You're very talkative," Blue Suit told her disdainfully. "I think that you would do well to speak only when spoken to."

"What are you going to do?" Kim countered. "Kill me twice?"

"No. I think once will be sufficient."

Before anyone could react, Nadia spoke. "What are Sloane's instructions involving me?" she demanded.

The man looked at her. "You're not in a position to ask about anything," he told her.

"You know who I am?" Nadia asked

"We wouldn't have come this far if we didn't."

"Spare her life, and I'll go with you voluntarily," Nadia said frantically

The man on her left looked somewhat shocked. "We've got guns at your heads," he pointed out. "You've got nothing to bargain with."

"You have to know how Sloane operates," Nadia said quickly. "As soon as you give him Irina and Isabelle, he'll take you out of the equation. The only way that all of you will get what you're owed is if you have something that he cares about. I'm basically all that he has left."

"Boss, we don't need--"

Blue Suit held up a hand. "Her life for your freedom?" he asked.

"Yes."

He thought for a moment. "Outside. Now."

The unwieldy entourage of seven armed men, three women, and one infant slowly made their way out of CTU. One of them held back for a moment while they left.

"That's it!" Marshall yelled. "Doors are open."

"Good," Chloe had gone rather pale." 'Cause we need to leave right now."

"What are you…" Tony looked at the monitor and saw what Chloe was seeing. The main entry hall was now empty. In it's place was a large grey box with flashing lights.

"Order an evacuation!" Dixon said.

"Code six!" Michelle shouted over the now working communications. Everybody began to rush towards the exits -- except for one

"How long before the charges go off?" Blue Suit asked.

"Less than ninety seconds," one of the henchmen said.

Blue Suit turned to Kim. "If you wish to keep the life Miss Santos has purchased for you, I suggest you run. Fast. Now."

They made their way towards their vehicles with Nadia now openly struggling. "You can't do this!"

"I promised you Kim's life. No one else's," Blue Suit reminded Nadia. "And I can still reverse my decision on that one."

Kim didn't know what she could do to stop this, but she was determined to try anyway. She had made her way to the entrance when she saw the last thing that she had expected to see-- a man emerging from the building, the bomb in his arms

"Tony?" Kim managed to say.

"Get down!" Tony yelled, as he started to throw the bomb.

The bomb had traveled less than ten feet when it exploded

12:59:57/12:59:58/12:59:59/1:00:00


	20. 1:00 AM TO 2:00 AM

Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

**The Following Takes Place Between 1:00 A.M. and 2:00 A.M. **

Kim Bauer lay on the ground, unmoving. The shockwave had sent her across the parking lot, the concussive force enough to level a building. No one had noticed whether or not she was alive or dead, assuming anyone had seen her at all amid the wreckage.

She lay on the ground, facedown, the very image of a corpse.

And then her eyes opened slightly and she groaned. For a long moment, Kim thought she was dead. Then, she became aware of tingling her extremities and a ringing in her ears.. Slowly, other voices began to enter her auditory range. It couldn't possibly hurt this much to be dead.

"How many people…"

"…. Is our equipment…"

"What the hell was he thinking…"

Kim slowly pushed up with one arm, and turned herself over, onto her side, and got her first look at the chaos. Unlike the majority of the people here, she had not been at CTU eighteen months earlier when a similar explosion, but she had a feeling that this wasn't as bad. For one thing, while there was significant damage to the face of the building-- there was a lot of broken glass, and some areas were smoking-- there didn't seem to be much harm done to the interior. For another, there were definitely a lot more people walking around, which meant that more of the people had gotten out alive.

However, Kim thought she knew the main reason that there had been so little damage. She slowly pushed to her feet and staggered to the entrance, in a daze as profound as when she learned her mother had been murdered. She fell to one knee instead of a more dignified crouch to examine the body.

Death had not been kind to Tony Almeida – but then Kim knew better than most that kindness in death was just a lie people themselves in order to rationalize the end of a life. The force of the blast had blown Tony backwards to the entrance., where large shards of glass had sliced into his carotid artery as well as his brain. Death had been quick, which for Tony might have been a mercy. It wasn't going to be for most of the other people in that building.

"_NO!" _

Kim didn't have to look up to know who was there. She stepped away from the body to allow Michelle access to her lover's body.

As Michelle fell near the body, she couldn't help but think of a horrible symmetry. A little more than three years ago, she had found her father cradling her mother's dead body in her arms, sobbing his eyes out, as if his world had come to an end. Now, in the worst possible way, the same thing had happened to Michelle.

"My god," Kim turned to her left to see Dixon standing next to her. "He told me to get everyone out. I didn't think he'd be crazy enough to..."

He drifted off. There wasn't anything else to say. The only sounds in the air were of burning fires, and the cries of Michelle Dessler.

"Is anyone else dead?" Kim asked, her voice suddenly curt. Dixon glanced at the look in Kim's eye. Gone was the hurt little girl, and what remained was a seriously pissed off Bauer.

_Maybe it is genetic._ "They killed nine of the security guards," Dixon told her. "Because of what Tony did..." he shook his head, "no one else died when the bomb went off."

"Please tell me that we have footage of the bastards who took Nadia and Irina hostage."

"We have them on tape. I've got Marshall running through the data now." Off Kim's look, "Chloe's still shaken up."

"We all are," Kim shook her head. "Christ, I've pretty sure whoever was in charge of these people was going to kill me a few minutes ago."

"He threatened you?"

Kim was taking out her cell phone when she remembered it had been destroyed in the explosion. "I need your phone."

**1:04:27/1:04:28/1:04:29**

Jack, though he was maintaining his usual equilibrium, was feeling as close to the edge as possible.

When Marshall had contacted him and told him about the situation at CTU, he told Vaughn to proceed with the trail. Jack's first reaction had been to tear out of there the proverbial bat out of hell. Vaughn had learned over the years how far he could push Jack when he had his mind made up—wisely, he hadn't tried to stop him, and had gotten out with Curtis Manning to try and follow up on whatever lead he could find on this mercenary named Mandy.

Jack had spent the next fifteen minutes trying to get a hold of anybody at CTU, but whoever had designed this communication worm was at Marshall's level, and for fifteen minutes he got nowhere.

Finally his phone rang. "Bauer."

"Dad, it's me."

Relief surged through Jack's body. "Kim, I've been trying to reach you for the last half hour. What the hell happened?"

Kim hesitated, and Jack realized she was trying to choke back sobs. "Dad… Tony's… dead."

For a horrible moment, Jack almost took his hands off the wheel.. "What?"

"Somebody input a worm that took our defenses. CTU was fucking invaded. They were going to blow the place to hell, and Tony was the one who saved everybody."

For the past three years, Jack had measured all of the loss he had felt in comparison to Teri's death. He thought that only the loss of his daughter or Nadia would hurt as much, but this seemed a far heavier blow.

"Dad, I'm sorry about Tony, and I wish we had more time to mourn," Kim summoned her strength, "but I'm afraid the situation is a lot worse. These people, whoever they are, they took Irina and Isabelle hostage, and when they were leaving they took Nadia. We need to get these guys, and now."

If Jack had been a lesser man this news, coming on top of everything else that had rained down the last few hours, might have paralyzed him. Ironically, it was Kim who gave him his courage. Considering everything that had happened in the past hour, the old Kim would have been completely incapacitated by this. The fact that she was still in the game, was actually urging him on, helped him regain the strength he needed to help get through the hard part.

"Do you have any idea who these people are?" he asked in a steady tone.

"We've got security footage of all the men who came in. Chloe's in the middle of IDing them," Kim paused., "but there may be an easier way."

"What do you mean?"

"Whoever it was who led these men told me that he knew you, well enough that he considering shooting me to send you a message," she said in a completely calm and clinical matter, as though it happened everyday. "You have access to a monitor in your car?"

"Yeah."

"Turn it on. I'm going to have Chloe text it over to you in the next thirty seconds."

Jack nodded to himself, and he felt his blood pressure increasing as his foot became heavier on the pedal and he ground his teeth. Grief and worry was starting to give way to the mounting rage. "He threatened you?" Jack tried to say as casually as possible.

"I think the only reason he didn't was because Nadia offered herself in trade." Kim paused. "And she was in no position to bargain at the time. I think the only reason he did it was because he wanted to toy with us."

Any relief Jack was feeling about Kim still being alive evaporated. "Send me the footage," he said in a neutral tone.

He had thought himself past the point of surprise, but when he saw the man in the monitor, a kind of pulse ran through him. "His name is Stephen Saunders," Jack told Kim. "Ex-MI-5. He and I worked together in the past."

"Where?"

"Until now, I thought he had died during Operation Nightfall." Jack paused. "But then, this is becoming a day when death doesn't seem like much of an obstacle to anyone."

**1:10:33/1:10:34/1:10:35/1:10:36**

As worried as Vaughn was about the fate of everybody at CTU, he realized that they were on a clock, and that the best thing that he could do to help them was to find this Mandy, and through her, find out where the hell Sloane was.

In the last fifteen minutes, he had been going over some data that Marshall had sent him, and, now that it was nearly too late, he was beginning to connect the dots.

"How the fuck did we miss this?" he muttered to Curtis.

"Our numbers have been spread pretty thin today," Curtis pointed out. "Besides, until thirty minutes ago, we had no real reason to follow up on this."

"Will we have enough agents on site to handle the rendezvous point?"

"If this woman comes alone, probably. If she's got the same kind of backup everyone else seems to be bringing today…" Curtis trailed off, knowing that he didn't have to finish that sentence.

Just then, Vaughn's cell rang. "More good news," Vaughn muttered as he answered it. "Vaughn."

"We've got another problem." Jack Bristow said without preamble

"Tell me about it." Vaughn said. "Given everything that's happened in the last hour, Sloane could probably walk right through customs, and our forces would be too divided for us to catch him."

"Is this about what's happening at CTU?"

"That's how bad this day has been. A major assault on CTU is currently the _least _of our problems."

"What else is going on?" Sydney's father demanded.

"First of all, that raid on CTU that according to Marshall could only have been managed if there was someone on the inside," Vaughn told him. "We now know who gave them up. Erin Driscoll."

"What evidence do you have to back this up?"

"Driscoll has a daughter named Maya with schizophrenia, who's been in and out of institutions her whole life. Until six hours ago, she was being held in the Connelly Institute when someone with the appropriate paperwork signed her out."

"And this someone was working for Sloane," Mr. Bristow extrapolated

"The woman who currently has possession of her is a mercenary named Mandy. Unfortunately, that's all that the man we have in custody seems to know about her. He was scheduled to meet with her to deliver a payoff as the Howard Housing development in Pacific Palisades. Curtis and I are en route there now to try and intercept."

"What have you got in the way of backup?"

"Just enough people so that something could go wrong. Especially if this woman-- who Marshall has yet to locate in any of our databases-- is as cagey as this guy makes her out to be."

"Then you're really not going to like what I have to tell you," Mr. Bristow said. Now Sydney's father was the one to hesitate.

"What now?" Vaughn said, in what would have been an eerie echo of Jack's tone a few minutes earlier

"Anna Espinoza was being transferred to a more secure detention facility about an hour ago," Mr. Bristow began.

"Let me guess. Erin Driscoll ordered her transfer," Vaughn said tiredly

"As far as we know, she had nothing to do with that," Sydney's father told him. "But the order came through Division so she would've known. In any case, the end result is the same. Less than twenty minutes out, her transport was intercepted , and a team of armed guards took out our people."

"Were there any familiar faces?"

"The one surviving agent said that he recognized Sark as leading the team."

"So Sloane's got himself spread pretty thin, too," Vaughn admitted. "Otherwise, he'd never put these two back in the same car together."

"Agents have already responded and are trying to set up parameters, but they could be miles from here."

"And you want me to do what exactly?" Exasperation was starting to slide into Vaughn's voice. "All our teams are in the field already, and everybody, including me, by the way, is the middle of trying to run down Sloane."

"I'm aware of that," Sydney's father began.

"Then why are you calling me?" Vaughn said. "My wife has been kidnapped by the most dangerous lunatic on the planet, my daughter is probably on her way into his hands we speak, and I can't even be bothered to stray from my post, because right now I have to try and follow any lead, no matter how pathetic, to find them. What the fuck do you expect me to do?"

"We have to find Sark and Anna--"

"They'll turn up again at the worst possible time and place. It's been happening a lot today." Genuine anger was starting to replace Vaughn's exasperation "What are you doing to stop this?"

"We never caught up with the car that we were chasing from Sloane's last hideout, so I told them to bring Driscoll to us. I'm going to interrogate her myself."

"You put a fucking gun to her head, and get whatever information that bitch has." Vaughn told him bluntly. "And you be sure to tell her that getting this assassin alive is my main concern. Rescuing her daughter is a distant second in my current priorities."

"We're almost there," Curtis interrupted

"I've got to get prepped for this meet," Vaughn told him. "One last thing, be sure to tell her if any harm comes to Sydney or my daughter, I will draw and quarter her myself."

Wisely, Sydney's father did not respond to this, mostly because his feelings were as deep, if not deeper, than his son-in-law's.

**1:18:49/1:18:50/1:18:51**

Sydney had spent the better part of the last hour trying to find a way to work free of her bonds and her captors, but given how many heavily armed men Sloane now had watching her, she couldn't so much as scratch an itch without getting attacked by one of Sloane's peons. Nor had she been able to get a clearer perspective on where the hell they were, aside from being on some kind of harbor. For all she knew, Sloane could have driven them back to San Pedro, where they had intercepted Anna Espinoza what now seemed like a lifetime ago.

If this really was Sloane's ultimate base of operations, he really was slumming it. Not that the last two locations he had chosen to work out of had been very high on the meter for luxury or neatness, but those places had been Hiltons compared to here-- she could see spider's webs and dust bunnies in the corners. The only thing that had seemed halfway normal was Sloane himself, walking the halls among his men, wearing an earpiece, communicating with the world on several monitors that had been here not much longer than him.

Sydney was trying to gather what little she could from the conversations Sloane had been having for the last thirty minutes, but up until now she hadn't learned much. However, the next call gave her hope.

"Sark, how good of you to finally call back," he said calmly

"You didn't exactly give me an easy task," Sark sounded a little hoarse. "Breaking a prisoner out of government facilities isn't a picnic."

"You've seen it work from both ends of the looking-glass, " Sloane reminded him. "You should be an expert at it by now

"Well, Anna's out now. Would you mind explaining why I was given this assignment?"

"My source at CTU has informed me that two of the vials have been intercepted before they could be used," Sloane said coldly.

"Don't tell me you honestly expected _all_ of the vials to reach their destination without running into some obstacles," Sark countered.

"My agent on the inside was supposed to make sure that all of them avoided capture," Sloane pointed out. "Apparently she, like so many of my other associates, has proved herself fallible."

"Maybe she's been made."

"You must really think I'm a fool," Sloane said with a mild irritation. "Of course she has. The only question is which of our people have screwed up."

"As fascinating as this conversation is, you still haven't answered my question." Sark countered. "Why did you have me break someone out who so obviously could have betrayed us?"

"Because I need as much attention diverted from the ground search as possible. This means having as many of people scattered as far as they can."

"So what, you want me and Anna to go flying down to Glendale, keeping the eyes of the world off Johannesburg and Santiago?" Sark asked.

"Four of the vials reach their delivery point in the next hour," Sloane reminded him "Once they arrive it doesn't matter if CTU ends up finding the rest. I'll be able to carry out the mission. I need you to provide enough a distraction."

"Glad we can be of service."

"Considering how badly you and Anna have screwed up almost everything that has happened today, now would not be a good time to be sarcastic," Sloane reminded them grimly. "Now, I'm going to text you the location of one of the last vials. Once you get it, go there and wait for my instructions. Can you do that much without supervision?"

"You can trust me."

"As has been the case, that's simply not true." Sloane looked like he was about to say more when his phone beeped. "Yes," he snapped.

"We have Irina and Isabelle," another voice told Sloane

"And CTU?"

"The bomb went off, but since neither Mr. Bauer or Mr. Bristow were there at the time, I'd say that they're going to be a problem in the future."

"Well, I'm used to dealing with these particular thorns in my side," Sloane pointed out. "This will cause enough of a problem to keep them busy."

"I'm glad to know you approve, but considering that Derevko was apparently recuperating from a bullet to the stomach, I think there may be a greater issue of time than you think."

A momentary flicker of concern passed over Sloane's face. "Will she make it until morning?" he asked.

"From what I understand, the only reason you had us kidnap both these woman was to kill them. Now's a lousy time to be showing compassion"

Sloane's eyes narrowed. "I'll give you the rendezvous point", he said brusquely.

"There's been a change in plan."

"We had an arrangement."

"Mr. Sloane, people who become your partners have a rather frightening tendency to turn up dead, so you'll forgive if for taking precautions."

"What sort of precautions?"

"I'm not telling you over the phone. Suffice to say, I think it's in your interest for us to meet face-to-face."

"You're in no position to negotiate terms, Mr. Saunders."

"I have exactly what you need to carry out your mission," Saunders countered. "I'd say that puts me in an excellent position to bargain."

Sloane considered this. "Redondo Beach exit off of the Pacific Coast Highway. Fifteen minutes."

He took off his earpiece, and turned to one of his flunkies.

"Problems with the help?" Sydney asked.

Sloane didn't take the bait, turning to one of his flunkies instead. "I'll be back in half an hour, Do not take your eyes off this woman," he ordered.

One of the guards looked nervous. "What if she does what she did to Gary?"

"Don't ask me to choose whose life is more valuable," Sloane countered. "You won't like the answer."

**1:27:52/1:27:53/1:27:54/1:27:55**

Under other circumstances, Vaughn might have been suspicion about this mercenary demanding a payoff in such a high visibility, high class part of the city as this housing development. He figured that this Mandy must have as little trust in Sloane as anyone else, and had therefore wanted this done in as public a setting as possible.

"There is a blue Camry approaching Sector C," Curtis said over the radio. "This could be it."

"Copy that," Vaughn said. "Sending out Hayward."

Vaughn would have preferred to have done this with more agents surrounding the facility, but they had neither the time nor the manpower to do this. They were just going to have to act on a wing and a prayer. So Hayward, the henchman he and Jack had encountered less than an hour, was going to go through with the exchange, and they would grab Mandy when she tried to leave, while Vaughn and the others watched from a hundred yards away.

The Camry came to a stop. A small, dark haired woman got out of the vehicle, looked around, then turned and said something to the passenger.

"Looks like this is it," Vaughn said over the radio.

Hayward walked out holding the briefcase he'd been carrying when Vaughn and Jack had pulled him over.

"You're late," Mandy said without preamble

"So are you," Hayward countered. "I assume the girl's with you."

"First things first. You have my money?"

Hayward opened the case, took out the laptop, turned it out, and began to type numbers into it.

"I believe that this is the sum we agreed to," he said calmly.

Mandy checked the screen, and apparently liked what she saw. "What about the girl?" she asked.

"Driscoll's been compromised. Her daughter's of no further use to us."

Mandy nodded and walked back to her car.

"All units prepare to converge," Vaughn ordered.

What happened next was so fast Vaughn wasn't sure until afterwards of the order things happened. Mandy hadn't gone more than ten feet, when she whirled around with a Micro RF, and started firing.

"Fuck! Move!" Vaughn yelled as he started running while reaching for his weapon He was fast, but Mandy was closer and faster.

Hayward went down in a hail of bullets So did the closest CTU agent By the time Vaughn managed to get there, Mandy had made it back to her vehicle.

"Curtis, if you have a shot, take it!" Vaughn yelled as he ran past Hayward's body.

The assassin got behind the wheel, and managed to pull her car out of park while keeping up a stream of fire. Vaughn hit the dirt just as the stream of fire ran past him.

Without even stopping to think, Vaughn autodialed Marshall.

"Marshall, this is Vaughn! I need you to get out an APB on a blue Camry, license plate EKI- 4762. Assailant is heading northeast toward Santa Monica!"

**1:32:04/1:32:05/1:32:06**

The chaos that had followed the explosion at CTU had died down a little in the ten minutes since Jack had arrived, but not by much. Kim and Chloe had spent the last half hour reactivating all the communication grids and had been trying to get on top of all of the active protocols. There were just two problems: there were a lot of them, and they all seemed to be going nowhere.

"So what you're telling me is that there's still nothing on where Sark and Espinoza may have gotten off to, no idea which way Stephen Saunders took Irina, Nadia and Isabelle, and nothing else leading us to Sloane and where he's keeping Sydney," Jack asked Chloe.

'I don't need you to put any more pressure on me," Chloe snapped at Jack. "I realize that people you care about are in danger, and that almost incidentally the fate of the world may be resting on what happens in the next few hours. Doesn't change the fact that these people are experts in the world of espionage. The entire US government couldn't find any of them when they were doing their usual crap, and now that we've been compromised internally and externally, that makes our job infinitely more difficult."

"What exactly are you trying to tell me?" Jack asked.

"You've spent the last three years tracking these people," Chloe pointed out. "You've got to have a much clearer idea as to how they operate then anybody in this office. If they're still in LA, you should know where they'd be headed.."

Jack was about to snap back that Sloane's holdings in LA were so large that he wouldn't know where to begin, when suddenly he remembered that wasn't true.

He ran over to Kim. "The data from that laptop we pulled out of the Hotel that Sloane used at his first hideout, pull it up."

Kim went to the keyboard and began pressing buttons. "We don't have a starting point this time," she reminded her father. "There were six locations in the greater LA area along. We can't afford to stake them all out."

"We don't have to," Jack argued. "Assuming that Sloane is taking this prophecy seriously, he's going to need to get to the Pacific sometime in the next four hours."

"We live in California," Chloe said. "We're next to a fucking ocean."

"If these prophecies are phrased the way we think they are, I'm betting he can't just go down to the beach and start opening veins," Jack argued. "He's going to need a _boat, _which means he needs a _dock_. Go through the property in the laptop again; I'm pretty sure that there was something set on the ocean."

Just then, Jack's cell rang. " Bauer."

"She knew we were there," Vaughn said without preamble.

"What?"

"We were just about to grab her when the bitch pulled a machine gun. Hayward's dead and she's on the run."

"Fuck," Jack said. "Have you got an idea where she's going?"

"I've got the vehicle on teletype, and I've got agents in pursuit, but given how well this bitch seems to operate it may be another exercise in futility." Vaughn paused. "Please tell me that you have something on where Sloane might be."

Just then Kim turned to her father. "I think I found what you're looking for," she told him. "Among the properties listed on the laptop is a small alcove between Redondo Beach and Hermosa Beach called LaMont's Point. Big enough to contain access to a harbor."

"Where's the closest team to that location?" Jack asked.

"Right now I think it's Jack Bristow." Chloe said. "But I think he's still talking with Erin Driscoll."

"I think he'll be willing to let a little fish slide when we've got a chance to land Moby Dick."

**1:39:13/1:39:14/1:39:15/1:39:16**

When she had surrendered herself over to Blue Suit-- who had in two overheard conversations revealed his name to be Stephen Saunders, a name she knew but right now couldn't place -- she had the vaguest of hopes. Even if CTU was somehow incapacitated, she knew that Marshall and Kim would use the not inconsiderable resources of APO to try and figure out where they had taken her.. She also knew that she, along with Irina and Isabelle, would put Sloane back in play, which increased the odds of Jack and the others finding her considerably.

These hopes had not been diminished despite the fact that she had been put in a separate vehicle with Saunders, while Irina and Isabelle had been put in a van and headed perhaps in a completely different direction. She knew that having offered herself as leverage, the man wasn't going to be foolish enough to put all of them in the same place.

She was therefore somewhat surprised when Saunders made a call to her father and demanded a face-to-face, and was even more surprised when Sloane accepted. Her father must have been low on help indeed, if he was agreeing to these terms this close to his deadline.

However, Saunders had made it very clear that he didn't want to take any chance. He cuffed her hands behind her back, gagged her and put her in the trunk of his car. Then he took out his cell, and took a series of pictures.

Had she been capable of speech, Nadia could have told Saunders that he was risking his safety still further by treated her like this, but right now she wasn't sure who to root for in this particular fight between her captor and her father. She could only hope that this would buy time for APO and Jack.

Stephen Saunders had not had enough time to stake out the rendezvous point the way he wanted, but he seriously doubted that Sloane had managed to do so operating in that limited time structure. He knew he might be underestimating Sloane, but he knew for goddamn sure that Sloane had already underestimated him.

Sloane appeared with one lackey on either side of him, both of whom looked extremely unhappy to be there. Saunders was rather glad that his men were at least more loyal than Sloane's would be.

"The hour groweth late, Mr. Saunders," Sloane said as he approached him. "I don't need any further disloyalty right now."

"This isn't about being trustworthy, it's simple life insurance," Saunders said. "How do I know I won't end up dead when you finish unleashing whatever the hell your endgame is?"

"I've told you what this is about," Sloane countered.

"I'm all for destroying America's relations with China, and I have no problem seeing the country explode in waves of racial violence, but this whole Rimbaldi prophecy creating a race of Ubermenn," Saunders shrugged. "that's nothing but nonsense."

"How do you know its nonsense?" Sloane countered.. "Aren't I supposed to be dead in Europe?"

"So I am, Mr. Sloane. So are half the people you work with."

As efficient as Saunders had been, Sloane was regretting that he hadn't recruited a fellow believer for this part of the work. "You think I'm planning to eliminate ninety nine percent of humanity for kicks?" he asked w sarcastically.

"I couldn't give a damn about that," Saunders said. "as long as I'm part of the one percent that survives."

"Well, in order for that to come off, I need Derevko and Isabelle Bristow."

"Which brings us to the heart of the matter," Saunders told him. "Given the fates of so many of your business associates, I need some kind of proof that you'll let me survive."

"In order for that to happen--"

"The women you require are within walking distance," Saunders countered. "And I would be willing to hand them over if you'll promise a seat of power when all this is finished."

"I could have you killed now, and ask your associates where they are," Sloane countered. By now, the two men standing along Saunders were starting to get very nervous

"You could," Saunders reached for his cell, "but then you'd never find _her."_

You had to give it to Sloane, even seeing his daughter hogtied in a closed space, he didn't so much as flinch. His voice, however, grew very soft. "You do anything to hurt my daughter--"

"What do you want, Arvin? Your plan to succeed or your daughter's life?"

"I can have both," Sloane countered

"Unless you agree to my terms, you won't get either."

"Then tell me what _you_ want." Sloane said finally.

"I will release your daughter, if you give me access to whatever it is, you've been giving to your associates who are going to survive this so-called apocalypse," Saunders said calmly.

"For the last time," Sloane spoke as if lecturing a petulant child, "you won't see the effects of what I'm using for another four hours minimum."

"Then what was that you gave to Li Chen Wang earlier?"

Though Sloane's expression never changed, he was surprised-- only a handful of people knew about that particular trick.

"Fair enough," he said. "Release Irina and Isabelle and I will give you access to that formula."

Saunders considered this. "Only Bristow's daughter gets released," he countered. "I'll give you Derevko when I take the solution, and I don't die."

Sloane would've argued, but there was an issue of time here, and Saunders was currently holding too many cards. "Come with me," he finally said.

Saunders took his radio. "Bring the baby out," he ordered. He nodded to the man on his left. "The rest of you, wait until I give the word for the release of the others."

A van emerged from the darkness, pulled over to the left side of the road, and one of the doors was opened. One of the men stepped out, cradling the baby. Sloane barely looked at the girl before taking her and walking back to his car.

Sloane didn't know that Nadia was resting in the trunk of a car roughly ten feet away from him, nor that she had heard almost the entire conversation.

They also didn't know that she had managed to loosen one of the knots in the ropes that Saunders had used to bind her legs together.

**1:50:59/1:51:00/1:51:01/1:51:02**

Jack Bristow's interrogation of Erin Driscoll had gone about as badly as he had expected it too. He had known instinctively that Sloane would have delegated one of his lesser flunkies to handle the abduction of Driscoll's daughter and the subsequent demands of her position that the Division head had received from the woman that Vaughn had identified as Mandy. Driscoll had no idea where Sloane was, or if he was even in the country anymore.

His anger had been elevated when he had received a call from Vaughn fifteen minutes earlier telling them that somehow Mandy had been wise to their surveillance, and was probably on her way to higher ground as they spoke. "For all we know, she's got another mole in District somewhere," Vaughn had told him.

Then Bauer had called and told him that they had a possible lead on Sloane, and that he was the closest field unit.

"Bottom line it for me, Jack," Mr. Bristow was demanding as he pulled up less than a quarter of a mile away, "What are the chances that Sloane's here? This could be another blind alley."

"Lamont's Point is one of the closest locations in relation to the Highway, it has harbor access, which Sloane needs right now, and it's got space and access to handle the technology he needs to keep operating," Jack told him. "I've had Chloe put up satellite; there's been a lot of activity in that area for the last hour and a half. Not a smoking gun--"

"But it's as close as we get with Sloane," Sydney's father finished. "What about backup?"

"I've got some men en route," Jack told him. "What did you do with Driscoll?"

"Wasn't enough time to wait for her to be taken into custody," Mr. Bristow admitted. "Had to take her with me."

"Well, I guess if you have to, you can use her for Kevlar," Jack said

"Doesn't work that way," Jack Bristow said. "I'll call you if I find something."

As he looked through his binoculars, he thought he saw proof that Jack had been on the right track. There was definitely more activity than you would expect to see in this isolated area, at this hour of the night.

Despite his orders, only one of Sloane's men was currently keeping an eye on Sydney, and as she had been feigning drowsiness from whatever Sloane had injected her with a couple of hours ago, she was sure he was no longer keeping that close an eye on her.

Sydney knew that Vaughn and her father were probably tearing LA apart looking for her and Sloane, but she thought that she had been a damsel in distress far too long tonight, and now was as good a time to try and get free. She had spent the last half-hour working loose her hands from the rope, and now that she thought the lookout's guard was down, it was time to get out

She waited until his attention was away from her before slowly removing one of her hands from the knot, and pulling it out. Then she waited for the guard get close, before she grabbed at his feet.

The guard barely had time to react before Sydney had knocked him to the ground, then the second she it was in reach, she yanked out her other hand, and hit him with a neck chop. Knowing that she'd have seconds at the most, she managed to wriggle the rest of the way free, and grab the weapon off the henchman's body.

Two of the other guards that were present leaped towards her and started shooting.

_So much for hoping they wouldn't attack the sacrifice, _she said as she dodged the first wave of bullets.

Jack Bristow couldn't see anything from where he was, but instinctively he knew the gunfire was being caused by his daughter. He also knew that she needed backup more than he did.

"All units, prepare to converge on the site!" he shouted into his radio, as he pulled his car out of drive.

Sydney had managed to take down two of the guards with the weapon she had pulled off the first one. Unfortunately, she knew that there were at least four more, and she didn't have enough ammunition to take them all out.

"Sloane said we shouldn't kill her," one of the gunmen reminded his associates.

"Then kneecap the bitch!" one shouted before dropping to his knees and resuming fire.

Then Sydney saw an area that wasn't being guarded., for good reason. _Why not? _she thought _Worked for me once before_

She began to race towards the docks, while the others fired at her.

The guards began to run after her, but Sydney was lightning fast over a short distance. She reached the end of the pier…. and jumped in.

"What the fuck?" one of the thugs yelled.

"Get the boats," one of the guards. "We're not leaving until we drag her out of the ocean!"

**1:59:57/1:59:58/1:59:59/2:00:00**

.

.


	21. 2:00 AM TO 3:00 AM

**Chapter 21**

**The Following Takes Place Between 2:00 A.M. and 3:00 A.M.**

When Jack Bauer had told Sydney's father he was sending a team out, he had neglected to mention that he would be leading it. He was effectively leaving CTU leaderless, but at this point he didn't give a shit. Let Division complain, let the President have him fired. The woman he loved and her sister were in mortal danger, and he couldn't sit around the base, waiting for Vaughn and Mr. Bristow to do the hard stuff.

Jack marched along the main floor of CTU, body armor strapped on, and enough spare ammunition to kill Sloane's men twice over.

Marcus looked up from a computer monitor to see Jack with that look in his eye—the first time he saw it, Julian Sark had escaped after helping to capture Anna Espinoza. That was a day that Dixon was pure and truly frightened that Jack Bauer would kill someone. This day, he knew someone would be dying within the hour.

Dixon stepped away from the monitor to incept Jack, only Bauer kept moving, and Marcus moved to keep stride. Before the APO many could open his mouth, Jack said, "Marcus, you're in charge. Michelle's in no condition to take command right now, and we have a lead on Sydney's location."

"Jack, we need you here right now. Vaughn can handle it, and Sydney's father is already on site. He can—"

Bauer wheeled around, blocking Dixon's path, forcing him to backpedal as Jack spoke in a calm, even, and deadly voice. "Listen to me very carefully. I am going to be there when Sydney is rescued, and I am going to make any survivors tell me where Nadia is. I don't want you to get in my way—that just means I'll have to put Kim in charge."

Jack turned on his heel and kept moving briskly. Kim caught sight of him and joined him on his walk to the elevator. "Dad. I made certain that a full combat package is on the helicopter, and the engine is already hot. From the Satphotos, we think there could be as many a dozen men on site, and I think they have assault rifles."

"Okay," he acknowledge, hitting the elevator button. The doors opened immediately and he stepped inside, stabbing the button to the roof. "Dixon is in command, and I want you to look in on Michelle every now and then. If she's able, I want her back in charge at once. We need everyone we can get."

Kim nodded. "And, and dad...bring Nadia back."

"I will."

Now, as the helicopter circled in the middle of finding a place to land, Jack had heard gunfire, which meant that either Mr. Bristow had jumped the gun (unlikely) or that something had gone wrong. He grabbed the radio and yelled, "This is Bauer, what's happening?"

"Jack, it's me," Mr. Bristow said.

"What the hell's going on?"

"I'm not certain. None of our people have engaged the target. From my position, the shots sound rather frantic"

Bauer smiled. "Sounds like your daughter got loose."

"There may be another problem. Couple of minutes ago, I saw someone to do cannonball in the Pacific. We'd better hurry before she becomes a fish in a barrel," Mr. Bristow said. "How far out are you?"

"Less than two minutes."

Despite what her would-be assassins might have thought, Sydney had not gone into the drink on a whim. She had only gotten a brief look at her surroundings, but it was long enough to get a lay of the land. On the far western side of the pier was a strip of the road. She knew she could hold her breath five minutes, which was long enough to get from one side of the docks to the other., and if she stayed under the pier, whatever goons Sloane had wouldn't be able to get a shot off. There was a possibility that they would have boats, of course, but it would take them a couple of minutes to get into a position where they'd be able to fire at her. She also figured that given Sloane's orders, they wouldn't be shooting to kill, which would give her the slightest of edges.

This didn't encourage her much, when from her extreme right, she heard the sound of an outboard motor being revved up. Trying not think of what might happen if things continued to deteriorate, she tried to lengthen her stroke.

**2:03:36/2:03:37/2:03:38**

Because of his previous location and the satellite pictures, he was getting from CTU, Jack Bristow had a much better idea of what Lamont's Point looked like then his daughter did, and right now he was seeing that the body of troops Sloane had assembled was heading out to cover the waterfront. From the radio, he knew that Bauer was approaching by air, he was going to have to handle things by land.

His backup, however, was still getting into position, and the only person in the car with him was Erin Driscoll, who despite having spilled her guts less than half an hour ago, he wouldn't trust with a slingshot, much less a P7 pistol.

_Come to think of it, I wouldn't have trusted her with either even before she turned traitor._

Then he got an idea. He knew that there was an excellent chance it could get both of them killed, but he also knew that he didn't have much in the way of options right now. He took out his service weapon, and trained it on Driscoll.

"Please tell me than in all your years of middle management, you at least know how to drive a stick shift," he told her sternly.

It took Driscoll a few seconds to understand the question. "What are you thinking?"

"I don't know if there's a chance your daughter can be saved," Mr. Bristow told her bluntly. "However, I'm appealing to that perversion that you consider motherly love to help me save my own daughter. It might end up saving the world, too, but since that's a concept I don't believe you can get your head around, focus on saving my daughter." He unlocked her cuffs. "Get into the front seat."

Driscoll seemed to be getting the picture. "You're serious?"

"Do I look like I'm capable of joking?" Sydney's father said as he cuffed her left hand to the steering wheel. "Keep in mind, if you fuck this up, we're both dead."

He then focused his attention on removing Uzi and a clip from the weapons section in the front of the car. He worked the slide and his eyes focused on the target so hard, he might have tunnel visioned on it.

"_Go," _he ordered.

The helicopter ended up circling a stretch of highway less than fifty feet away from the target area.

"Tell all ground units that we'll converge on the waterfront," Jack yelled as he got out of the helicopter. "Prepare to take out any targets approaching by sea."

The second he started to order his men forward, a stream of automatic weapon fire came in their direction. Jack hit the dirt, and returned fire in the direction of the muzzle flashes.

He got a big hint, however, when he saw a speedboat tearing ass in his direction. "All units, converge on my location!" Jack shouted into the radio.

For the space of half a minute, nothing could be heard but the exchange of fire of automatic weapons. One body from the boat fell into the water, one of Jack's agents fell on the ground. Neither side could close the distance.

Then suddenly, a Land Rover appeared on the eastern side of the beach, its left window open, and a stream of bullets flew into the men on the boat.

Jack didn't bother to ask questions. Instead, he ran for the river, looking for air bubbles, hoping that he hadn't come too late.

"Sydney!" he yelled out.

For another long ten seconds, nothing happened. The suddenly, there was a huge splash, and Syd emerged from the water. Jack had no idea how long she'd been under, but she still had enough adrenaline to swim over to the dock.

She wrapped both arms around the pillars of the pier and looked up at Jack Bauer. "Little help?"

Jack ran over and pulled her out of the water. As he did so, the Land Rover came to a stop, and Sydney's father ran out.

"Sydney!"

"Dad!"

Jack knew the Bristow's well enough to know how restrained both of them were—Jack Bristow's face usually having the composure of a mannequin. So when Sydney's father pulled her into a hug, he had an excellent idea of how worried he had really been.

"Thank you, all of you," she said quietly.

"You might want to rethink that," Mr. Bristow told her.

"What do you mean?"

"In order to lead the final attack, I had to have my hands free," Sydney's father told her.

"Wait a minute," Jack said. "Are you saying…."

The driver's side window came down, revealing a whey-faced Erin Driscoll...who actually looked worse than Sydney, and she had only been driving for an intense thirty seconds.

"The gods just like to fuck with us sometimes," Sydney muttered.

"You have no idea." Jack countered.

"Actually, Jack, I do...you see, there's something about Sloane."

**2:11:18/2:11:19/2:11:20/2:11:21**

What nobody at the pier knew, but shouldn't have come as a surprise to anyone there, was that Sloane had main damn sure that his hideout's were maintained with an excellent security system, which he was tapped into from a radius of five miles away. The second that bullets had started flying, he had been alerted. Thus, by the time Sydney had done a swan dive into the Pacific, he was well aware of the situation.

This was a pretty serious blow, but still not a fatal one--- there were enough of the vials of the virus still in play that he could pull of his solution before time ran out. Unfortunately, it also meant that Stephen Saunders had even more leverage over him.

He tried not to let any of this show, as he prepared a small syringe of the serum that he had only used twice before --- once on himself, and once on Li Chen Wang.

"How do I know that you're not just preparing a vial of some fast-acting poison?" Saunders demanded.

"Unfortunately, Stephen, right now I'm a little strapped for help," Sloane admitted. "I can't afford to kill any more of my allies, even if they have proven themselves to be Judases."

"That makes me feel all warm inside." Saunders said sarcastically. "And just to be clear this little concoction will give me is a composite of the Rimbaldi solution?"

"If it were as easy as preparing a syringe, I wouldn't be going through all these acrobatics," Sloane told him. "What you're getting is a modified dosage of a chemical mixture based on a composite of what I currently have in my veins. It won't give you immortality, it will just enhance your healing and other biology. It will also affect your body in such a way to prepare you when the final solution goes into effect, your body will be prepared to accept it."

"So I'll be immortal by the time this is finished?" It was clear by the tone in Saunders voice that he really didn't believe that this was going to happen.

"Believe or don't believe it, I don't much care right now," Sloane told him. "Of course, if you don't take it, you can go the way of the dodo like the rest of the human race is about to."

Reluctantly, Saunders took the syringe and held it for a moment, before injecting it into a vein in his wrist.

"And now that I've lived up to my end of the bargain, I want Irina Derevko and my daughter turned over to me _now." _A slight note of irritation entered his voice.

Saunders picked up the radio. "Bring him Derevko."

"Sir, she's starting to look a bit pale. Do you really think she's safe…"

"Bring her to my last known coordinate. And, might I add, this is not a good time to fuck around with me."

Much like Sloane, Saunders' last words brooked no refusal. Less than twenty seconds later, the van that had been carrying both women drove over to the side of the road. Two men got out of the vehicle, open the side door, and began to carry Irina over to Sloane.

"What about Nadia?" Sloane demanded.

Saunders walked back over to his car, and pressed the release on the trunk. "Ask and ye shall receive," he told him bluntly.

If looks could kill, Saunders would have been dead before the trunk swung open For that matter, Sloane might have followed through had he not just given Saunders a formula that would enable him to shrug off a bullet to the brain.

What neither man knew was that Nadia had been working her way loose for the last twenty minutes, and the second Saunders reached into the trunk, she leaned up and hit him with a vicious head butt.

As Sydney could have told them , immortality and invulnerability didn't go hand in hand; Saunders fell backward which gave Nadia the impetus to leap out the car. Before she could go any further, though, there were three weapons trained on her.

"Don't move," Sloane ordered. His gun was out, but he hadn't raised it at her.

"Or what?" Nadia countered. "Don't you still need me in case something goes wrong with my sister? It can't be that you're worried about my well-being, because everybody here knows that's a lie."

Sloane was quiet for a few seconds. "I don't expect you to understand," he told her. "I don't expect forgiveness. But you knew who I was, and you know that I will not let anybody stand in the way of accomplish my goals. And you know that I can easily demonstrate my wrath against your niece. So stand still, and do not fight."

She stepped out of the car, and raised her hands. "By the way, Dad," she said bitterly, "it's _great _to see you again."

**2:18:25/2:18:26/2:18:27**

"Arvin Sloane is immortal? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I wish I were," Syd replied. "But I saw it myself. Come'on Jack, with all the shit that Rimbaldi's pulled, are you really that surprised that he could do this? We've done nothing but chase down toys from the darkside of the moon for the past five years, and this shocks you?"

The speaker phone on the cell in Jack's hand piped through the voice of Marshall Flinkman. "Yeah, Syd, we know, but even this sounds like it's coming out of left-field, if it were thrown by Rod Serling."

Bauer sighed, then shook his head. "You know what, it doesn't matter." His eyes flicked from Sydney, to her father and back again. "No matter what condition Sloane is in, the only thing we can do is focus on stopping his vials from getting out. We don't need to kill him to do that." He smiled tightly and unpleasantly. "When we catch him, we can see how he enjoys life in the electric chair for as long as the charge holds out."

*

Now that Sydney was getting a closer look at the base of operations Sloane had been maintaining for the past couple of hours, she was willing to upgrade her opinion on it. Stripped down to its core essentials, Lamont's Point had everything that he needed to maintain this operation Which is why she was somewhat upset that she didn't think Sloane was going to come back.

"Everything Sloane needs to pull his mission off is right here," Jack reminded her.

"All he needs to pull off his operation is three generations of my family," Sydney told him. "And he's got them all now. I have no doubt that a dozen different alarms went off once things started to go to hell, I sincerely doubt he'll come within a mile of here."

Jack was inclined to agree. "And you don't think he'll be anywhere near the meeting point he set up an hour ago."

"He's spent the last four hours ago jumping from place to place," Sydney told him. "There's no reason why he can't have another couple of locations set up. No, our best bet at finding Nadia and Isabelle is to try and use whatever information Sloane left for us to find."

Jack glanced to Sydney's father. "What have you got off the laptops?"

"I'm streaming the files to APO and CTU," Mr. Bristow told them. "Based on what we got off the first couple of computers, it looks like they're real time satellite projections of the locations the virus was going to be activated in. So far, three of them match up to the locations that we pulled off of Sark's computer earlier. Based on that, and what Sydney overheard earlier, we've already intercepted them."

"Yeah, but Sloane also said that after a certain point, it wouldn't matter how many of them we intercepted," Sydney said grimly. "He's got some other game plan here, and we need to figure…"

She trailed off. "Do any of the monitors match up to someplace local?" she said walking over to her father.

"Not so far," Jack Bristow told her "but we haven't gone through all of them. What are you thinking?"

"Sark made contact with Sloane an hour ago, I can only assume after he helped break Anna out of prison," Sydney told him. "Sloane said he was going to text him something involving the location of one of the remaining vials, with orders to wait for further instructions."

"Which means he's probably still in LA somewhere" Jack reasoned.

"You getting this, Marshall?" Mr. Bristow said into his radio.

"I'm on it," Marshall said, "but I'm still going to need a few minutes to sift through the data."

"Are we now in the position that we can hunt down and kill Sark at last?" Sydney asked, "Considering that it's pretty clear he's switched back to the enemy again?"

"He probably still knows where Sloane is," Jack reminded him, "and we wouldn't have been able to find this place without data that he made sure we got."

"He's covering all his bases," Sydney said bluntly. "On the off chance that I escaped, he made sure he gave the barest minimum of help while he was gloating. It doesn't change the fact that he's now betrayed us several times over. He knew how big a problem we'd have if Anna got out of custody; he helped break her out anyway."

Jack was inclined to agree, but now was a lousy time to get bent out of shape about it. "How about we focus on finding the bastard first?" he argued.

"And how exactly do we do that?"

"Sydney," Marshall broke in, "do you know where Sloane was standing when he sent the message?"

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm using a method the FBI worked out a couple years back," Marshall said. "I've already isolated the cell tower Sloane had to use to make some of his phone call. If I know the exact time and position Sloane was when he sent his message, I can isolate it and scan it. I've already got the time through the cell tower, so if you can give me the position---"

"--- the machine does the rest." Sydney was standing in the approximate area, and turned on her cell. "I'm sending you the GPS coordinates."

"Hold on," There was a long pause. "'Vial is in a strongbox at 300 Crescent Way in Culver City.'"

"We've got him," Jack said. "Good work, Marshall."

"But Sark sent that message almost an hour ago," Mr. Bristow pointed out. "What makes you think he'll still be there?"

"Sloane told him and Anna to wait for further instructions," Sydney told him. "And according to where the transport was when they broke Anna out, it probably took them some time to get there. The timing fits."

"You two go," Mr. Bristow told them. " Someone needs to help coordinate the search for whatever vials are left, and this is the place to do it from."

Jack turned to Sydney. "You sure you're in shape enough to go after them?"

"I owe both Sark and Anna," Sydney reminded him. "I'm going to pay them back with interest."

**2:27:45/2:27:46/2:27:47/2:27:48**

Vaughn knew that CTU had suffered a major blow little more than ninety minutes ago, which meant that Marshall's already full plate was going to be overloaded. And the last person that he wanted to talk to right now was someone from Division. But he had to make a report to somebody, so he called Sydney's father.

"Jack Bristow."

"Please tell me that you have something on Sydney or Nadia," Vaughn said with no preamble.

"I was just about to call you," Mr. Bristow said. "We found another of Sloane's hideouts. This time we found Sydney there."

The iron weight that had been on Vaughn's chest for the last three hours lifted a bit. "She's alive?"

"And kicking. She and Jack are out in the field following up on a lead."

"They have a location on Sloane?"

"Not quite," Mr. Bristow said, "But they think that they can find Sark and Espinoza."

"And you thought it was safe to send Sydney and Jack after them?" Vaughn asked rhetorically. "They'll kill those people ten times over before either of them can open their mouths."

"You're arguing for their lives?" Sydney's father said with the barest hint of doubt in his voice.

"I just want us find my daughter and Nadia. After that, I'll freely help dismember them."

There was a pause. "Maybe we don't have to even go that far," Mr. Bristow said.

"What are you talking about?"

"If we can locate one of the people Sloane used earlier---"

"If you're talking about that mercenary Mandy, forget it," Vaughn said. "We spent the last forty minutes chasing her, and we got almost nothing."

"What's the almost?"

"At one point she changed vehicles. The car didn't have much in it, save for the body of Maya Driscoll," Vaughn shook his head. "I had Kim go through whatever we found in the car, so far she's turned up squat."

"Erin's not going to be that happy," Jack Bristow said.

"My heart would bleed if she hadn't been willing to sacrifice my daughter and yours in order to protect her own," Vaughn countered.

"Her feelings are the least of my concerns right now," Mr. Bristow said. "However, Mandy wasn't the person I was thinking of."

"I'm listening."

"The people who executed the raid on CTU that killed Tony," Sydney's father said. "they were apparently being led by a man named Stephen Saunders."

Vaughn considered this. "I've heard that name before."

"Only it's from Jack's past, not ours," Mr. Bristow told him. "He's ex MI-5, and he was one of the men on the team who was killed in Operation Nightfall."

"Death just doesn't seem to carry the same weight it once did," Vaughn reflected with the barest amount of irony. "How did Saunders get mixed up with Sloane?"

"Jack doesn't know," Sydney's father admitted. "He's not the kind of man who would go along with the whole Rimbaldi mission. According to Sydney, Sloane left to meet with him over an hour ago. But he never returned from that meeting."

"I don't suppose there's any chance that the two of them could've killed each other," Vaughn asked.

"Unfortunately, there's no possibility of that."

There was something in Jack Bristow's voice that Vaughn didn't like. "What now?"

A moment later, Vaughn was hoping he hadn't heard right. "Sloane is immortal? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"We seem to be dealing with Agent Bauer too much. That's what he said."

Vaughn ground his teeth. Despite everything he'd gone through with Sydney while they were taking down Sloane the first time, he had still considered much of the Rimbaldi stuff to be bullshit. "Once we find Sloane, how the fuck do we stop him?"

"I don't know," Jack Bristow admitted. "We may have to shift our priorities as to stopping this plague on our own. What's your current location.

"I'm just outside of Santa Monica. What are you thinking?"

"According to Sydney, Sloane and Saunders were scheduled to meet in Redondo Beach. I've been getting satellite photos of the area, and I've backtracked some of the vehicles movement. We track the vehicles down, we might be able to get a lead on Saunders and Sloane."

"And the outbreak?"

"This is the nerve center of Sloane's operation. By going through the data here, we've made some progress locating some of the other vials. Another hour or so, we might be able to stop Sloane's operation without having to touch him."

*

Kim Bauer glared at the computer screen, then smacked the monitor. "Work, darn you."

Her cell phone rang, Marshall's tone: Mission Impossible. She muttered again and answered, "Yes?"

"Hey, Kim, how're you doing?"

"I'd feel a lot better if our equipment was working, half the building wasn't blown up, and Tony was still alive."

There was a moment of silence. Marshall would have sworn he had heard that tone of voice before, but whether it was from her father, Syd's or Nadia's, he wasn't sure. "Um, okay...listen, have you been updated on everything?"

"Define everything."

Marshall did.

Kim: "Arvin Sloane is immortal, are you fucking _kidding _me?"

"You know, I would swear there was an echo on this line."

"Marshall, I'm serious, are you kidding me?"

"Nope. Arvin Sloane is now a Highlander. There can only be one."

"God, I hope so, one Arvin Sloane is more than we really need right now."

"How's Michelle?"

Kim winced, and looked around the floor to make sure no one was paying attention. "Not good. She's been almost totally unresponsive since Tony died. I can't say I blame her."

"What are you doing now?"

"Helping Vaughn track one of Sloane's mercs. Someone named Mandy."

**2:36:31/2:36:32/2:36:33**

"I realize that there's a problem," Sark said over the phone, "What I don't understand is why, knowing that CTU had probably set up roots there, you decided to come back to your hideout at all."

"I needed to collect data off the hard drives," Sloane told him from the vehicle he was waiting in.

"You're telling me you're actually under-equipped for this operation?"

"It's hard to keep hands on my equipment when my hideouts keep getting raided," Sloane said pointedly.

"Maybe you should accept that you trained people who are chasing you a little too well," Sark countered.

"This isn't the time to get bogged down on minor details."

If Sloane was saying things like this, he was really pissed and intended to deliver some kind of payback in a non-distant future. Unfortunately, Sark couldn't afford to worry about this now.

"Are you and Anna where I told you to be?"

"We're there. We have the vial. Are you ready to give us instructions?"

"We're going to have to adjust the plans according to the circumstances," Sloane ordered. " Head out towards to the Santa Monica mountains, and get ready to go climbing. The machinery that you'll need to get the virus airborne will be waiting at the summit. If you can manage to get this done without screwing up, be at the final rendezvous point at 5 AM."

"What about the government?"

"I'm about to put a major obstacle in their catching us," Sloane told them.

He took out a small remote.

*

Mr. Bristow was about to contact Kim when suddenly one of the monitors began to flash. "What the---" Jack Bristow turned to the others—Arvin Sloane _always _covered his tracks. "Out! Everybody out now!"

No one dared hesitate. Sydney's father didn't shout unless he absolutely had to.

Though none of them knew this, there was a fifteen second time delay between the activation of Sloane's booby trap and its actual detonation. That was long enough for Jack Bristow to get to the Land Rover he'd been driving.

Unfortunately for him and many of the other agents, that wasn't quite far enough.

The explosion was considerable.

**2:40:29/2:40:30/2:40:31/2:40:32**

"All of the servers uploading data from Sloane's hideout just went dead," Marshall told Chloe over their connection.

"That's not surprising, " Chloe said in an oddly detached voice. "According to our satellites, so did Lamont's Point."'

"Are you telling me…"

"The whole place just went boom," Chloe told him. "We're trying to reestablish contact, but it's looking a lot like there were no survivors."

Marshall knew that Jack Bristow was one of those people, but for some reason he was starting to having trouble processing this. "How did this happen?" he asked instead.

"What do you mean, how? Obviously, your ex-boss covered all his contingencies, and made sure that there was some kind of booby trap to keep us from getting data off the servers."

Marshall thought this over. "But that doesn't make any sense," he said "I know better than anyone how careful Sloane is. Given the kind of technology he obviously has access to, there were at least a dozen ways he could have made sure that data was gone by the time we set foot in Lamont's Point. To do otherwise would be, well, really sloppy of him."

Chloe would have snapped back something about Sloane getting sloppy in his declining years, when she realized that it didn't fit in with how Sloane had operated today. "So what are you saying, he had somebody else trigger the bomb?"

"I'm saying that you've got aerial footage of Lamont's point for the past half-hour," Marshall said. "I'd start going over it with a fine tooth comb, because I think someone triggered it remotely, and whoever it was wasn't that far away when he did it."

Just then Dixon ran over to her. "How far out are the nearest medical teams?"

"Um, I'm pretty sure the explosion took out anybody who was within walking distance of the place," Chloe argued. "Nearest teams are at the San Pedro Harbor."

"Well, then get them there ASAP," Dixon said. "Kim just picked up a radio signal from the site. Looks like someone survived."

But even though he was alive, Jack Bristow wasn't a hundred percent sure how much longer he would be a survivor.

Because he had made it to the Land Rover, he had been protected from taking the brunt of the explosion. Unfortunately, the vehicle, while formidable, could not emerge unscathed. Huge chunks of glass and pieces of debris had flown off, and several of them had cut into him. While most of these were minor flesh wounds, he was injured and bleeding and couldn't be sure whether he'd also incurred some kind of internal damage.

However, right now, he couldn't afford to focus on this. He had to check and see if anyone else had survived this attack, and get in touch with CTU, not necessarily in that order.

As he managed to regain his footing--- not easy for their was a shard of glass in his leg--- he saw immediately that. one person already dead --- Erin Driscoll's head had nearly been torn from its neck, when the driver sides window had flown into it.

Somehow, Mr. Bristow couldn't find much sympathy for the woman.

There were also at least three other bodies that had been floating in the water that definitely weren't getting up. More interesting was the fact that there was an intact radio floating in the water. Grimacing as he crawled forward, Sydney's father managed to pull it from the water. "Somebody.. pick up… " Mr. Bristow said. "This is Jack Bristow. . Is.. anybody… out there…?"

There was a very long pause. "Jack… that... you?" finally came over the speaker. "Dixon….. you… hurt…."

"Dixon, we've been hit… hard…." Mr. Bristow managed to raise himself, slowly, to his feet, and he started staggering to the nearest vehicle as he glanced around. "I don't… see… any other survivors…."

"We'll get a— chopper—your location. "— you see Sloane?" Dixon asked.

"No," Mr. Bristow admitted. "But he's close… or was."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because… he likes to make sure…. Something's dead…. when he kills it."

**2:46:51/2:46:52/2:46:53**

Sydney's father had no way of knowing this, but Vaughn, who had followed his advice and, with Kim's assistance, had backtracked Sloane from the meeting point almost to exactly the same route back to the waterfront. Unfortunately, things were going to go downhill for them.

"After he makes it back to Lamont's Point, the satellite feed was knocked out by the force of the explosion," Kim told him. "We managed to reestablish it in less than a minute, but that was more than long enough for Sloane to disappear off our radar."

"How many people are dead?"

"We're still checking, but right now it looks like Mr. Bristow was the only one to survive the attack," Kim told him grimly.

Naturally, Vaughn was concerned, but one of them that he'd been taught by both Sydney's father and Kim's was that sometime you need to turn off your feelings for the greater good. "What about the data stream?" he asked slowly.

"Marshall and I haven't had much of a chance to verify this, but he managed to get half of the data saved to a hard copy," Kim told him. "Good news, we can stop about half the vials with the information; bad news, there's nothing there to give us on Sloane or on Nadia and Isabelle."

Vaughn considered this. "That's not entirely true," he said. "How long would it take you to recalibrate the satellite to backtrack Stephen Saunders' route?"

Kim got at once. "Less than two minutes," she told him.

"Contact Jack Bristow and tell him to meet me at the entrance," he told him. "We've got another target to chase, and I'm betting this one isn't as good covering his tracks as Sloane is."

**2:51:02/2:51:03/2:51:04/2:51:05**

Sydney had been having a sense of déjà vu since they had arrived in Culver City, and now she knew why. "I think Sloane's so low on help, he's going back to some old haunts," she told Jack as they drove down Crescent Way. "We're in the same neighborhood where Alexander Trepkos ran his business, and where we ran into Sherry Palmer the day you and I met."

Jack considered this. "If that's the case, he really is running a risk. Remember? We had eyes on this whole area until we thought we killed Sloane the first time."

This raised a point that Sydney had stringently avoided but that she didn't think that she could hold off any longer. "Speaking of which, since shooting him doesn't do the job, and blowing him into chunks just seems to piss him off, have you come up with an idea as to how were going to stop Sloane when we catch up with him?"

"No," Jack said bluntly. "I've been a little busy concentrating on saving the world, and not having _another_ woman I love killed in the process." The moment the words were out of his mouth, he knew he'd overstepped his bounds. "I'm sorry. Isabelle—."

Sydney nodded, just staring out the window. "It's been another long day," she told him. "We've all been worn to a frazzle."

Jack nodded. "The days don't seem to get shorter. There's nothing on stopping this?"

"Nothing solid, no," Sydney said thoughtfully. "but given how avidly he's tried to get me and Nadia, there's a good chance that one of us might be able to stop him."

"Let's hope that's true," Jack said. "Because I think that the hunt for Sloane's about to start again." He stopped the car.

300 Crescent Way, like many of the surrounding buildings, was an office building, and even though it had once been the property of the Covenant, the background check of the leasers and led back to legitimate owners. This led Jack and Sydney to believe that they didn't know what they were sitting on.

Jack peered through the window. "Don't see any bodies," he told her.

"Yeah, but I don't see any sign of Sark or Anna either," Sydney argued. "Could be they've come and gone."

Jack rattled the door. "They locked the door behind them?" he said doubtfully.

"Maybe Sloane told them to be subtle," Sydney said. "Or maybe they know that they don't have any more room for error."

They were about to break the door open and check inside when a beam shined on their door. Both whirled around, weapons drawn.

"Whoa, whoa!" The light apparently belonged to a middle-aged, portly security guard. "Hey, I don't want any trouble."

Both agents relaxed a little. "Sorry, sir," Jack said

"You two with the police?" the guard asked.

"We work for the government." Sydney took out her identification. "I'm Sydney Bristow, this is Jack Bauer. We work with Counter Terrorist Unit."

"My name's Simon Willis. I work for Anderson Security Service, graveyard shift. " Willis showed Sydney his ID. "Everybody's pretty worked up about what's been happening today. This is the tenth time I've been called out here since I went on duty."

Sydney had taken out her PDA. "We've been looking for these people," she said showing him computerized images of Sark and Anna Espinoza. "Have you seen either of them?"

Willis took a good twenty seconds before Speaking. "That guy looks familiar," he said. "Yeah, I've seen him. I was responding to a complaint about an hour ago, and I saw him walking around this area. Said he was with the police, showed me an LAPD badge and everything."

"What explanation did he give for being here at 2 in the morning?" Jack asked suspiciously..

"You're a cop, you don't need to have an explanation for being around," Willis said, with a quiet chuckle. "But he said that he was there because he was staking out the hideout of a known felon, who he said worked out of that building. Said it was really important that he got inside that building."

"Did he have a warrant?" Sydney asked.

"Said the courts were FUBAR because of the civil unrest that's been going on all day," Willis told him.

"And you let him into the building anyway," Jack said, hostilely.

"Yeah," Willis said a little hostilely. "And as far as I know, he hasn't left, so if you want I'll unlock the door for you too."

Willis was starting to examine his key ring, when three shots rang out. Jack and Sydney hit the ground fast; Willis, older and heavier, was instantly cut down by a bullet. By the time the agents had their weapons out, another round of sniper fire followed.

They were pinned.

**2:59:57/2:59:58/2:59:59/3:00:00**


	22. 3:00 AM TO 4:00 AM

**Chapter 22**

**The Following Takes Place Between 3:00 A.M. and 4:00 A.M.**

Jack knew right now that the sniper had all the advantages. The streetlights were so bright it was hard to pick out where he could be firing from, and he knew that satellites probably would only be helpful if their shooter was on the roof, which they had no proof of. Furthermore, because of the lateness of the hour, there were very few cars on the street so they didn't have much in the way of cover on their front. Without any position they could take, he and Sydney could probably fire themselves empty without so much as touching him.

By now, Sydney and he had found momentary cover behind their CTU vehicle. "Do you think that there's more than one shooter up there?" he asked Sydney.

"It's possible, but I doubt it like hell," Sydney said. "It would be inefficient for Sloane to leave many people behind, unless the ranks of his followers are truly bottomless, which isn't his style." She didn't add the nasty thought that all Sloane needed right now was a handful of men dozed with whatever immortality serum he was carrying.

Jack grimaced, thinking the same thing, he'd deal with that—and them—if it actually happened. "One of us needs to draw his fire while the other gets a position on him," he told her. "Think that you can handle the run?"

"This is no time for chivalry," Sydney said with a grim smile. "Count of three, start giving me cover."

Jack nodded.

"One… two…." Sydney was off in running before the last sound in 'three' was pronounced. Even though she had been tied up for more than an hour, she was still a lot faster than Jack was.

Without a lot of options, Sydney headed to her southeast, which led to an alleyway of the building behind her. One of the few things that it had in its favor was that it had an accessible fire stairs, which at least gave her the possibility of elevation

Unfortunately, the sniper began to fire just as she approached. Jack tried to mentally visualize where he was, but it was still hard to figure where it was coming from considering he could barely make out how high the adjacent buildings were.

He got on his emergency line with APO.

"Marshall."

"Marshall, it's Jack. Sydney and I are at the address, and we're pinned down by sniper fire!"

"What do you need?"

"I need to know the highest building on Edgemont Street, now!"

Marshall had gotten to the point where he knew not mess around when he got this kind of call. "Give me twenty seconds."

"We may not have that long," Jack roared, still trying to maneuver and shoot simultaneously while on the phone.

"I realize that, but…" Marshall trailed off. "24 Edgemont Street, seven stories. It's the fifth building on the left side of the street relative to your position."

"Got it," Jack hung up and began counting. It took him less than five seconds to figure out where to go, and where to aim.

He just hoped that Sydney wasn't already out of the picture.

Sydney had made it to the second floor access point by now. By her calculation, the last shot the sniper had fired had been ten seconds earlier, which meant that this guy had probably emptied his clip—and he also confirmed that there was only one shooter. All of which would have made her feel better, if she could have gotten a position on this guy.

She got on her two-way. "Please tell me that you have a location on the shooter," she demanded of Jack.

"Across the street, two buildings to your right," he told her. "How long do you need?"

Sydney had never stopped climbing. "Less than a minute," she said, which of course was the moment that the gunfire resumed.

_Man this guy's devoted to getting the job done. _"This only works if you can keep up your end of the deal," she told him.

"I'm on it."

Just knowing where the sniper was hardly enough to stop him, at least not with the Weber that he was carrying. In order for them to succeed, they needed higher ground and a more accurate weapon. Sydney was handling the first part, he figured that it was up to him to do the latter.

In the time that the shooter had taken to reload, he had gotten back to the CTU vehicle and opened the weapons unit. There was an M-16A3 in storage, a weapon that would normally be useful for only one out of every ten trips out into the field

This was the one.

In less than fifteen seconds, he had loaded the weapon, and aimed at the top floor of 24 Edgemont Way. He readied himself for the kick, pointed and shot.

Jack's accuracy at this range wasn't going to be very great, but right now his only concern was putting enough bullets into the air that the sniper would shift his focus, giving Sydney enough time to get where she was going.

_Now we see who runs out of ammunition first._

Jack fired off simple, easy three-round bursts, so he wouldn't have his bullets fly all over the area. Concrete dust exploded out from the building. Right now, he couldn't even see the sniper's head. In fact, he might not have even stuck it out.

_Which means that I might be firing at a target only the size of a quarter. Great._

The adrenaline had done the job, and Sydney had made it to the eighth floor. She couldn't quite make out the sniper's exact location, but she could just make out the flash from where the weapon was being fired from.

Once again, she waited until the shooter emptied his second clip. This time it took him five seconds to reload.

A split second after the first shot was fired, Sydney empty her clip into the window that he was shooting out of. There was no question she'd made contact—the gun that was being fired went through what was left of the window.

"Jack, he's down!" Sydney shouted into the radio.

"That's one problem down," Jack pointed out.

"Get us into that building and up to where that sniper was firing from. Whoever it is has to have some link to Sark. All we have to do is pull it off him."

**3:08:14/3:08:15/3:08:16**

When Vaughn got a look at Lamont's Point, he was somewhat amazed that anyone was still alive. The area looked like it had been ground zero for hours of firebombing, which given how Sloane operated, had probably been his plan. Sloane had always been a believer in the scorched earth policy; this was a literal example of it.

There was a rapping on his door, and Vaughn was staring at Jack Bristow, who didn't look much better than the surrounding landscape. For that matter, given how burned and bloody he was, Vaughn was amazed that the man was in one piece.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered as he opened the rear door. "Where the fuck were you standing?"

"Not that near the blast point," Mr. Bristow told him, as he heaved himself into the car. "But close enough to be thrown into the water. Few feet nearer, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"I'm not sure how much longer we'll be having one anyway," Vaughn countered, only half in jest. "Have you been seen cleared for duty?"

"I'm fine, Vaughn," Sydney's father replied with his usual cold, hard tone.

Vaughn looked at Mr. Bristow's attire, which was covered with blood, ash and water, where it wasn't ripped. "Forgive me, Jack, but given what you've been through in the last hour alone, I'm going to need a little more reassurance than your word."

"My daughter and Jack Bauer have been through far worse injuries than I have, and they're cleared for duty," Mr. Bristow was keeping a stiff upper lip, but Vaughn could tell how pale he was.

"Yeah, but when they were cleared, it didn't look like a stiff breeze would knock them over," Vaughn countered. "I'm taking you to a hospital."

"Yes, because Sloane's not going to be doing anything of consequence while doctors are poking and prodding me."

And because Vaughn wasn't entirely sure he was willing to sacrifice his daughter in order to save his father-in-law, he decided to ease off. "There's a first aid kit under the seat," he told Sydney's father. "There should at least be some adrenaline and painkillers in there. Also, if we by some chance catch up to Sloane, you're staying in the car. "

"You really think that by not fighting, Sloane will show me any mercy?" Mr. Bristow said, as he opened the first aid kit.

"We've been through a lot," Vaughn countered. "I'm not just going to use you as a human shield."

Reluctantly, he started the car, and dialed CTU.

"Kim Bauer."

"It's Vaughn. I've just picked up Jack Bristow. Have you gotten anywhere backtracking Stephen Saunders?"

"There's bad news, and good news," Kim told him. "Like I told you before, there were three vehicles at Saunders' last location. One of them was the van that had Irina and Isabelle in it. They completed the handoff an hour ago."

Vaughn tried to quell the stab of fear that quickly ran through him "We knew that at some point there was going to be a trade," he countered. "Any idea what Saunders got in exchange?"

"Couldn't tell from that position." Kim paused. "The son-of-a-bitch was also carrying Nadia in the trunk of his car."

"He handed all that off, and he didn't bother to kill Saunders?" Jack Bristow spoke up.

"I can't explain it either," Kim admitted. "Maybe the possibility of immortality is mellowing everybody out."

"Where is Saunders' going?" Vaughn asked, not wanting to delve too deeply into the subject right now

"Satellites and traffic cameras show him heading northeast down Hawthorne Boulevard. Last overhead showed him taking a right turn on Rosecrans a few minutes later. Now don't make me swear to this, but I think he's heading to Hawthorne Municipal Airport."

"That makes a certain amount of sense," Sydney's father admitted. "Given the level of the Hell about to hit, I'd want to leave of the country as soon as possible."

"I don't suppose you've got any backup left you can spare," Vaughn asked hopefully.

"A lot of any possible backup died at Lamont's Point," Kim answered. "Coupled with all the people we have scouring the city for Sloane…."

"That's what I thought," Vaughn told resignedly. "Any government agency that could still be here--- FBI, DOD, anyone, find somebody to intercept with us at the airport."

"Given everything this guy's done today, do you think either of you can stay rational when you confront him?" Kim pointed out.

"He'll live," Vaughn told her, "long enough to tell us where he sent my daughter and Nadia. Beyond that, he won't be measuring his life in coffee spoons much longer."

**3:14:36/3:14:37/3:14:38/3:14:39**

Kim's phone rang and she answered it automatically, double-checking CTU force deployments. Maybe she could send Vaughn backup if she diverted some resources from over there...? No, couldn't do that. What if—

"What's up Marshall?"

"How'd you know it was me?"

"Caller ID. Wave of the future...of the 1980s."

"Oh, yeah, right. Listen, I want you to go over some Sat pics of the area around your father and Syd, see if we can find this guy's car. Blue Prius."

"Gotcha. Shouldn't be a problem. Anything else?"

"Well... remember Sloane as a Highlander?"

Kim blinked, suddenly getting an image of Arvin Sloane in a kilt. "You mentioned it."

"Well, that would mean that your father would have to start carrying a sword, right?"

"I have difficulty imagining him swinging a Claymore." Kim pointed out. "Besides, when Dad killed him the first time, he practically blew his head clean off his shoulders. According to Sydney, he's got it back now. Now, I didn't want the show often enough to know if that would have substituted for a clean decapitation----"

Marshall actually considered this a moment. "The rules of the Game were always sketchy about modern equipment. Always seemed a little primitive that none of the Highlander's ever tried it, especially the more evil ones, but those guys always seemed to be living codes of other centuries."

"And, despite all the insane rituals he's performing, Sloane's essentially a creature of the modern age," Kim pointed out.

"Spitballing about TV shows is okay for awhile, but it still doesn't answer how we stop Sloane when we find him," Marshall said. "We both know as long as there is a microgram of strength in Sloane's body, he'll find a way to bring about the end-times."

Kim considered this. "As my dad would say this is still the cart before the horse time," she said finally. "We've got to find him first."

"That part hasn't been that difficult, compared with some of the other things that Sydney and your father have done today," Marshall reminded her.

He would have added more to that, but it that moment his computer beeped. "Kim, I think I've found something that may help Jack and Syd."

\"Like to how to kill Sloane?"

"Unfortunately, I still don't have an answer on that."

Getting into the building where the sniper had been holed up required another set of headaches. Whoever it was had managed to get into 24 Edgemont Street without breaking any windows or doors. Both Sydney and Jack assumed that he had managed to override the building's security system--- something that Marshall could have done, given some warning and time. However, with the clock running , they decided it would be faster if they just broke and entered, and had CTU call the police and explain.

Upon doing so, they had trouble locating the man who had been shooting at them. For some reason, he was not on the top floor, where one would think he'd have the best view, but, as Sydney had been able to tell from her position, an office one floor below. Finally, when they had gotten in, the body had nearly fallen through the window, and they'd had to be careful to stop it from plummeting to the ground, thus risking the damage of whatever electronics he was carrying. As Sydney had pointed out, they had to treat the man in death far more care then they would have shown him alive.

"I got the ID of the photos you sent," Marshall told them. "Your shooter was Alfred Hahn, former Covenant agent. Believe it or not, he was ex-LAPD SWAT, before becoming the head of a security agency. Probably how he managed to get into the building."

"Have you gotten anything off his cell?" Jack asked.

"There are some calls to numbers that we've connected with Sark, but that's not exactly a surprise," Marshall pointed out. "If this had been the gunman behind the grassy knoll, I'd be a little more stunned, but there isn't a single number here that we haven't already linked to Sark or Sloane."

Both agents had expected that. "Is there that we can use either of these numbers to try and pinpoint Sark's location?" Sydney asked.

"Guys, if it was a matter of me using triangulation and cell towers, I've have tracked him down for you three hours ago," Marshall told them. "I don't want anything to happen to Nadia or Isabelle either, but trust me, using his cell like that isn't going to cut it."

"Marshall, when you use those words that implies that there's another method you're not telling us about," Jack pointed out.

"Like I said, we can't track down Sloane or Sark with this cell, but unless he was planning on catch the train, he has to have some way of meeting up with Sark later, after he'd killed you," Marshall said. "Now, while all these Covenant types are smart enough to use stolen cars, I don't think Hahn had the requisite brainpower to follow their lead."

Sydney had become a lot better at decoding Marshall's rambles. "You found this guys car?'

"I found a sky blue 2003 Ford Prius with the license number NKQ-4742 registered to Hahn," Marshall told them. "As per your instructions, before you two arrived I did a satellite sweep of the area. Two cars arrived, one of which we traced back to Sark a couple of hours back, the other belonging to Hahn. Yes, I have Kim going over the satellites looking for that car," he said before either could say anything, " but without any real destination, we might as well just throw darts at a map."

"Assuming he showed up in his car and didn't steal one," Jack reminded him, "how do we use it to find Sark? Like you said, they could be heading anywhere"

"Hahn stayed behind to finish off anybody who pursued him," Marshall told him. "Afterwards, he was probably going to rendezvous with Sark and Anna. Ergo, the GPS will probably have something on it that will lead us to either that meeting point, or some future destination."

"That's a hell of a leap," Sydney said.

"Yeah, but there's a better chance finding him using that computer than the one on the cell," Marshall pointed out.

"Blue Ford Prius?" Jack asked.

"Trust me, it's there," Marshall assured them.

"At least he's an environmentally _conscious_ hitman," Sydney drawled.

"You couldn't tell it where he parked it by any chance?" Jack asked Marshall.

"It'll take less time for you to find it than for be to give you its exact position," Marshall reminded him.

**3:23:44/3:23:45/3:23:46**

As they headed for the elevator, Sydney asked almost casually: "We get anything else from Lamont's Point?"

"Um, yeah about that," Marshall said. "About an hour ago, one of Sloane's henchmen triggered some kind of auto-destruct bomb at the computer bank, and, um, kind of destroyed it."

"The information?" Sydney said, her throat tightening.

"Um, Lamont's Point. Big-ass bomb pretty much—" Marshall seemed to realize what he was saying "the place was leveled."

"What happened to my father?"

"Oh, your father's still alive and kicking," Marshall assured her. "It's just that every other agent was killed."

Sydney paused for a moment as the elevator doors opened for them, and she didn't speak until they closed. Her voice came out in a cool, calm, and highly controlled...and Marshall would have sworn she had used that voice before she shot people. Had she been taking voice lessons from Jack Bauer again? "And you decided to sit on this until now?"

"I kind of figured, you know, how worked up you are about Nadia and Isabelle, and probably your mom missing, the last thing you needed to hear was that your father was nearly killed," Marshall sputtered. "Figured it might put you in a catatonic state."

Sydney blinked, and was silent until the elevators opened. She stepped out onto the first floor, and glanced at Bauer. Jack also looked dumbstruck by the strange analysis from the stranger analyst. "Marshall, you've known me for nearly ten years," Sydney pointed out. "You know that I'm nowhere near that fragile."

"Everybody has a breaking point," Marshall argued. "And today has been incredibly trying."

Sydney blinked, and sighed. This was Marshall's way of looking out for her, and it was sweet...in a strange and completely lopsided sort of way. "My father's all right?"

"Vaughn picked him up about ten minutes ago," Marshall told her. "Right now, they're working on tracking down Stephen Saunders."

"Any luck in finding him?"

"I think, right now, it would be better if we just worried about tracking down Sark and Anna," Jack told her.

Sydney pushed the door open. "What about the virus?" she asked instead. "We any closer to stopping any of the vials?"

"Well, the good news is, with the information we pulled off the datastream before it went ka-boom, we have managed to intercept five of the vials before they reached their targets."

"Does that mean Sloane can't pull off his Armageddon scenario?" Jack asked.

"God I hope so," Marshall said with some release. "I mean, considering that we've now accounted for nine of the fourteen samples, you'd think we'd have stopped the Apocalypse, now." He gave a short laugh. "Problem is, there are still five out there, so even if Mr. Sloane doesn't destroy the world, he can probably set off a few major global outbreaks. I imagine that he'd be disappointed, but since it seems he's already gotten his immortality, I think he might be willing to let it go and call this a good day's destruction."

"And there's probably some loophole in the Rimbaldi manuscripts that allows him to pull this off anyway," Sydney said as they looked around outside.

"At this point, very little would surprise me," Marshall said.

"Sydney!" As they had noted earlier, there weren't a lot of cars parked on the street. It took Jack less than fifteen seconds to spot the vehicle. "I'll need a minute to---"

"Actually, you won't even need that." Sydney jangled the keys found on Hahn's body. "Saves us a little trouble, anyway."

Jack took the keys, and opened the door to the vehicle. Quickly he located the GPS. "Okay, Marshall, I'm turning it on now."

"All right, I'm tapping into it," Marshall told him.

Less than half a minute later, he was back on the phone. "All right. There are two sets of coordinates within the last forty minutes—one leading to Culver City, one leading away from it."

"What about that set?" Jack asked

"Apparently it involves taking Route 405 all the way down to Mulholland, then following a side route into…" he trailed off.

"Where?"

"About a mile into the Santa Monica Mountains." Marshall frowned. "Why would Sark and Anna go there?"

"Elevation," Sydney said grimly.. "At the right altitude and with the right winds, they could infect half of Los Angeles."

"Then we'd better get moving, and hope they haven't already started," Jack said.

**3:29:54/3:29:55/3:29:56/3:29:57**

Unlike the one in Torrance that Sydney had briefly visited several hours earlier, Hawthorne Municipal Airport was more of a private airstrip, and while there was a small terminal, the majority of the passengers boarded on private runways rather than waiting for announcements.

By the time that Vaughn and Mr. Bristow had gotten there, Dixon had contacted them and said he had talked with airport security and told them to keep an eye out for Stephen Saunders. Unfortunately, this was a big enough field so that Saunders could have a lot of hiding places. When he had suggested that they shut down all flights leaving that airport, Sydney's father had vehemently disagreed.

"The one advantage we have over Saunders right now is that he thinks he's made a relatively clean getaway," he pointed out. "Anything suspicious happens to LA airspace, he's going to know we're on to him, and he'll disappear. Only this time we won't have any idea where to look."

Vaughn was inclined to agree. However, when he learned that it would take the nearest law enforcement agency twenty additional minutes to get there, he had told him that at this point it would be better if they worked with security to try and do it on their own.

He was now beginning to wish he hadn't used the word 'we' to Dixon.

"We should wait for backup," he was telling Sydney's father as they pulled into the airstrip parking lot.

"While I agree with you in principle, Saunders might be a plane by now," Mr. Bristow pointed out. "We take too much more time, he could take the decision completely out of our hands."

"I'm well aware of that, Jack," Vaughn told him, "and I know we can't afford to lose him. I'm just not convinced that you'd be able to catch him if we do."

"I'm feeling better," Mr. Bristow insisted.

"It's an illusion from whatever you took from the med-kit," Vaughn argued. "I'm still not convinced you'd be able to stand up unsupported."

Jack Bristow's answer was to open the door, get out and jump into his feet.

"Very nice," Vaughn said as he got out as well. "Unfortunately, Saunders has spotted you. Now you have to chase after him."

To his credit, Sydney's father didn't even try to move forward. "You've made your point," he said. "However, you also know me well enough that I'm not just going to sit in the car."

Vaughn had already weighed his options. He replied by taking off his coat. "For starters, you need a change of outfit. A blind man would be suspicious if you appeared on the horizon."

Mr. Bristow didn't argue. Vaughn didn't fail to notice how carefully he took off his coat, as if he know moving to fast would pull something internally. "According to Marshall, this is the main exit," Vaughn continued. If Saunders tries to run, this is probably where he'll come out. If he does, kneecap the bastard and sit on him until backup makes an appearance."

"I'm more than capable of interrogating this man," Sydney's father said as he put on Vaughn's coat.

"Not if he breaks you in two running past him," Vaughn said. "Something which I don't consider impossible"

"Are you trying to get on my bad side?"

He moved his holster behind his back, and got on the radio. "This is Agent Vaughn with CTU. Has anyone got a twenty on our suspect?"

"We've checked the terminal and runways 1 through 4. So far no sign of him.

"Start going through Runway 5. I will meet you on the eastern side of the main concourse."

Vaughn turned to Mr. Bristow. "I can't believe I'm actually saying these words, but don't do anything crazy."

"You've limited my duties to shooting and sitting," Sydney's father said. "Doesn't give me much room to screw around."

"Maybe," Vaughn said. "but I know who's father you are, and she's never been good at following orders."

**3:35:07/3:35:08/3:35:09**

As Vaughn entered the terminal, he speed-dialed CTU.

"O'Brian."

"Chloe, it's Vaughn. Have you tapped into the airports security system yet?"

"It's a closed-circuit system," Chloe said as if that spoke for itself. "I've been going over footage from the last half-hour trying to see if there's any footage of Saunders."

"And?" Vaughn asked impatiently.

"No sign of him at the entrance or any of the terminals. If he's on the premises, he hasn't come in the usual methods."

Vaughn didn't know Chloe as well as Sydney or Jack, but he'd been working with tech geeks like her to know when one was withholding information. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked.

"It's easier to show you," she told him. "Take out your PDA and turn it to Channel 3."

Wishing again that their techs wouldn't be so theatrical, he did so. Moments later, he had to avoid doing a double take. According to the timestamp, nine minutes ago, Mandy, the woman who had kidnapped and murdered Maya Driscoll had walked up to one of the terminals, and purchased a plane ticket. After doing so, she had walked out of camera.

"Did you contact airport security?" he demanded.

"Five minutes ago, " Chloe responded. "Unfortunately, her description wasn't already out, which is probably why nobody bothered to stop Ms. 'I don't need a bra.' "

"I've been looking for this woman for three hours!" he said in a quietly angry voice. "How the fuck did this happen?"

"No offense, Vaughn, but you're the one who lost her in the first place," Chloe said in that irritatingly abrupt way of hers. "Also around the same time we could have been looking for her, our security system took a hit, and my boss was murdered. We've kind of had our hands full trying to play catch up finding your family, stopping a madman, and saving the world from dying, not necessarily in that order."

Normally, Vaughn was more diplomatic when dealing with complicated techs, but he had passed his threshold for patience several hours ago. "Just tell me that you know where one of the dangerous killers we're pursuing is right now," he demanded angrily.

"According to the camera, she went out the eastern exit," Chloe said. "Towards Terminal 3."

"And go through that footage again," Vaughn ordered as he ran. "I don't think it's a coincidence that we followed him and found her."

An airport guard met Vaughn outside. "Shift in priorities," Vaughn said, taking out his PDA. "Anybody got a twenty on her?"

The guard hesitated before nodding. "I think I saw her headed to runway 3."

"There a flight taking off?"

"We've got a Cessna headed toward Seattle taking off at 4 AM."

"Get your people to surround that plane, _quietly._" Vaughn told him.

The movement and speech was barely audible. Nevertheless, it was heard . Moments later, the guard was falling to the ground with blood pouring from a hole in the neck.

Stephen Saunders' phone rang. "Yes."

"CTU will be on you any minute," Mandy told him.

"I'll handle it. " Saunders hung up, walked to the seat where the air marshal was sitting, and knocked him out. In a matter of seconds, he held the man's sidearm in his hand.

His first action was to walk over to the flight attendant, pistol raised. "We're about to take a walk to the cockpit," he said casually, as though inviting her to stroll through central park. "You're going to tell the pilot if he doesn't open the door and start following my instructions, I'm going to start killing passengers."

When the guard fell over, Vaughn returned fire instantly, blasting the attacker in the shoulder...

And it wasn't Mandy.

Vaughn shot him in the other shoulder anyway.

"I won't waste another bullet," he told the man as he writhed on the ground. "Where is Stephen Saunders?"

"Where do you think?" the man sputtered.

Before Vaughn had time to process this, his phone rang. "Yeah?"

"It's me," Jack Bristow said. "FAA just received an emergency distress call from Cessna 164 , demanding that they clear the flight for takeoff immediately."

"Saunders is in control of the plane," Vaughn realized.

"How do we stop him?"

Vaughn thought, then walked over to his prisoner, and stomped on his hand hard enough to break a finger. He barely heard the man's scream. "You're going to tell me everything you know about Saunders now."

"I don't know Saunders, " the man muttered

Vaughn stamped on his hand again. "And I know there are more breakable bones on your body," he snarled over the man's shout of pain.

"I'm just a messenger," the man insisted. "I work for Mandy. She sent me out there to send a signal."

"Well, then I guess you know what my next question is," Vaughn told him

"The signal was for her, too," the man insisted. "She's not going to stay around one second longer than necessary."

"Unless she can flap her wings and think lovely thoughts, she can't get away that fast."

**3:44:38/3:44:39/3:44:40/3:44:41**

Saunders pointed the gun at the co-pilot. "You're going to come help me disconnect from us from the hangar. Try anything funny, you die." He turned to the rest of the crew. "As for the rest of you, when I leave you're going to feel the understandable urge to call for help. However, should you give into that desire, I will have no choice, but to empty my weapon into the fuel tank."

"But… you'd be killed…" the pilot stammered.

"I _really _don't want to go to prison," Saunders said with a disturbing smile. "Don't test me on that."

"Jack and Sydney were on there way to Santa Monica, Vaughn and Sydney's father are covering the airport, Dixon…" Marshall paused "well you, know where he is, which leaves me thinking you're right about what you said earlier."

"How do we stop Sloane when we find him?" Kim asked.

"You said to put it off until later, I think that four in the morning qualifies," Marshall pointed out. "The floor is open to suggestions."

Kim considered this for a moment. "Well, that I know the least of anyone at APO on Milo Rimbaldi, I'm not sure what kind of advice I can give."

"I think right now, relatively fresh eyes might see a lot clearer than mine."

Kim considered this for several seconds. "Rimbaldi was prophetic, right?"

Marshall shrugged and gave a smile. "From the way he sketched Sydney as the Chosen One, I think that's accurate."

"Then he had to known a lot about how everything he made would be use. I mean, two killer viruses, doomsday weapon, immortality fluid---" Kim shook her head. "This stuff gives me the creeps; in his own time period , trying to explain this would have earned him a trip to the stake."

Marshall considered this. "Well, given Sloane's interpretation of events, Rimbaldi wanted to rid the world of people. It would make sense that he wouldn't have the necessary resources, and would have planned for the long term."

"No, that's not it. If Sloane was right--- and his reasoning has never been objective--- Rimbaldi would have wanted a foolproof plan. But he's given out as many ways to stop these plans as well as to accomplish them," Kim pointed out. "Hell, he as much as drew an arrow identifying Sydney and Nadia as the saviors of the world. Why?"

Marshall considered this. "Well, Sloane's the expert in the field, so he'd have to be at mostly correct."

"So we think Rimbaldi sees the word as one big Sodom and Gomorrah?"

"Yeah. Now, following that train of thought, why would he give us--- which I guess means anyone who isn't Sloane, a way to stop him. We've got a time, a place, and a goal. All we have to do is stop him from killing one of three hostages, though obviously, I'd prefer it with he can save two out of three, I don't know where you are on saving Irina…"

"I'm willing to give that responsibility to Syd," Kim thought for a moment. "Do you think Rimbaldi was the kind of individual who would have planned out something in case his stuff fell into the wrong hands?"

"Well, I think we can agree Sloane's are _definitely _the wrong hands, so he's not being that particular as to whose…" Marshall trailed off, as something very plausible occurred to him

"Marshall?'

"It's in the writings somewhere. Has to be." Marshall began typing on his screen. "I'm going to be sending a datafile to you."

"What are you getting at, Marshall??"

"Rimbaldi was a genius. Probably a lunatic as well, but there's a thin line between genius and insanity. I should know better than anyone .else," Marshall kept typing.

"And?"

"No genius--- no matter what time period he lives in--- doesn't do something this massive, without some kind of fail-safe."

"So what, we're going to go thorough everything Rimbaldi designed and hope to find in two hours what no one has located in five hundred years?" Kim said with only the slightest tinge of disbelief.

"Got a better solution?" Marshall countered.

Kim shook her head. "What's the file name?"

**3:51:03/3:51:04/3:51:05/3:51:06**

"This guy says that Mandy's still on the premises?" Dixon asked.

"She was as of fifteen minutes ago," Vaughn told him. "And since she's definitely not stupid enough to make a bolt for it while the airport's surrounded with federal agents, she's probably still here. I'm heading to where my would-be hostile says he last talked with her."

"If she smart enough to stay hidden, she's also smart enough to have taken to a better hiding place then the one where she was last seen," Dixon pointed out. "And she's definitely smart enough to avoid the surveillance."

"Considering how tight security is now, she knows that getting out is nearly impossible," Vaughn reasoned. "Which means she'll take one of two approaches: when surrounded, she'll surrender, and try to cut some kind of deal for herself in exchange for her freedom, which she could manage if she knows where to find Sloane."

"Or?"

"Saunders is obviously planning some kind of bloodshed," Vaughn reminded him. "She'll wait till it starts, then make a run for her freedom. If she does, I'll be able to make a move to catch her."

"That's a hell of a risk," Dixon admitted.

"We're running out of time for safe plays," Vaughn said. "We need to go for a blitz."

"You've been hanging around Jack too long."

"Which one?"

"Bristow."

Vaughn considered that a compliment, but before he could say anything to that effect, he saw something. "I'll call you back," he said and hung up.

He had reached one of the few hangars in the airport that wasn't currently occupied... Well, not entirely. There was a dead mechanic on the floor.

_She's not being subtle anymore, _Vaughn thought as he took out his weapon. As he did, he passed through one of the giant windows in the building. He saw a glimmer of something in the corner of eye, and ducked

A split second later, there was a bullet in the wall above him.

He whirled and fired a shot. "Give it up!" Vaughn shouted. "There's no way out."

Mandy didn't answer, she just fired a second shot

Vaughn ducked behind a wall, and prepared to handle this one way or another.

The co-pilot had just finished disconnecting the hose, and was walking moving back towards Saunders, when a man stepped out of the shadows

"Give it up," Jack Bristow said. "You have nowhere to run."

Saunders looked at him with some amusement. "Whose messenger are you?" he asked. "Doesn't matter. I still have a plane full of hostages, and if anymore of your people come this close, starting with him, they will die."

"I'd reconsider that policy if I were you," Mr. Bristow said just as coldly

"WHY?"

"If my some miracle you should manage to get the plane in the air—which you won't by the way," Jack Bristow said, "we're scrambling an F18 to shoot the plane out of the sky."

A flicker of concern crossed Saunders' face. "That decision would spit in the face of every anti-terror policy this government supposedly stands for," he pointed out.

"That's how dangerous an enemy you are to this country," Sydney's father said. "The people on that plane are now considered acceptable collateral damage."

"You're bluffing."

'I don't bluff, Mr. Saunders," Jack Bristow told him. "We don't like wasting American lives, but if you don't give us any information, you'll be responsible for the deaths of millions. Shooting that man won't change any—"

Jack Bristow saw what was coming, and tried to react, but the injuries he had sustained and the fact that Saunders was younger gave the Brit an advantage from the start.

Saunders shot him in the chest, and he fell to the ground.

"You were wrong about that, at least," Saunders said as he pulled the co-pilot in, leaving Jack Bristow to bleed out.

**3:59:57/3:59:58/3:59:59/4:00:00**


	23. 4:00 AM TO 5:00 AM

Chapter

**Chapter 23**

**The Following Takes Place Between 4:00 A.M. and 5:00 A.M.**

The Santa Monica Mountains cover most of West Los Angeles, and generally overlook the wealthiest sections of the city – it borders Beverly Hills on the southwest, and overlooks Westwood, Century City and Van Nuys. Though the hand of man has paved over most of the land around the mountains, there are still several wildlife preserves, which overlook not only these sections of the city, but much of Eastern Los Angeles as well.

It was that prospect of it that Arvin Sloane had seen the potential for destruction. However, he seemed to have overlooked one minor detail when he had ordered Sark and Espinoza to scale the highest point of the range. It was virtually inaccessible by car or truck. A helicopter could have gotten them there slightly quicker, but would have struggled to find a landing spot. Therefore, the only practical way to reach the summit was to go by foot, and it was not an easy climb..

Sark was beginning to think that this part—from the moment he'd been ordered to help break Anna Espinoza out of custody a little more than three hours ago—was his punishment for his failures of the day, as well as a way to make sure that he couldn't contact Sydney or anyone else at CTU. Since that moment, none of the three 'assistants' that Sloane had insisted accompany him had let him leave his sight since that moment. And he was certain that after he and Anna finally completed this mission, the last job that they do would be to put a bullet in his brain

For that reason, he had welcomed the slow climb up the hill, and then working relatively slowly to finish assembling the miniature air cannon that they would be using to disperse the virus as the only way he could find to stall for time. But now it was beginning to look that his efforts at playing out the clock had just about run down.

"All right," Anna told him. "We are ready to load the vial."

"Are you sure?" Sark asked.

"Nervous, Julian?" A teasing smile quirked up one corner of her lips.

"Hey, I know how deadly this thing is supposed to be," Sark reminded her. "And the idea of having to be in the range of this cannon's spray when we set it off is not one that leaves me breathless with anticipation."

"Considering all the ways you've helped blow this whole mission," Anna pointed out, "I would consider myself fortunate that I was still drawing breath at all."

"You're one to talk," Sark countered. "You think that Arvin had you liberated because he so enjoys the pleasure of your company? He's tying up his loose ends, which is what you and I are now."

"If that were true," Anna said coldly, "I would be doing everything in my power to make sure that I didn't screw up the one last thing that we've been assigned."

"And that's enough for you?" Sark asked unbelievingly.

"I'm a soldier," Anna shrugged. "I knew the moment my cover was blown that there was an excellent chance that I was going to be killed by one side or the other. However, I have to believe that should the apocalypse actually come, Sloane will be forgiving of those initial failures if they eventually led to success."

With that statement, Sark realized two things. First, Anna was incredibly ill-informed about Sloane (but then in all the years of war and peace, they had never worked together until now) if she thought her mistakes would be overlooked. Of course, she could be lying, and planning to score points by killing him herself.

Second, right now his chances of surviving this whole nightmare came down to, of all people, Sydney Bristow and Jack Bauer. _If_ the sniper hadn't killed them, _if _they found the route to the mountains and caught up with them, _if _they managed to kill Anna and stop the virus from spreading, and _if _they decided he had done just enough to help, he _might _end up seeing the sunrise. There were a huge number of _if_s in that chain of reasoning, but then again he had been underestimating the two of them all day.

For that matter, Sloane still was.

**4:03:52/4:03:53/4:03:54**

Mandy and Vaughn had been at a standoff for the last few minutes, except that Vaughn only had three bullets left in his .45, and he still had no idea what Mandy had left. However, since shooting wasn't resolving this, Vaughn decided to run a bluff.

"The game's over, Mandy," he said deliberately. "Even assuming you manage to kill me, you don't have nearly enough bullets to take out my backup."

If Mandy was surprised he knew her name, there was no sign of it in her answer. "Bullshit," she replied. "CTU has its numbers spread so thin they couldn't play a game on two on two with whatever you've got."

"You were responsible for blackmailing a Division director, and murdering her daughter," Vaughn answered. "You'd be surprised how that upsets the people in charge." Even as he responded, he couldn't believe he was asking her to buy this load of crap; he certainly wasn't shedding any tears over the deaths of the Driscolls.

"Saying you have enough people to kill me isn't going to make me want to stop shooting," Mandy pointed out.

"You've done some pretty contemptible things in the last few hours," Vaughn admitted. "But compared to the machinations of the people who paid you, it amounts to being little worse than spitting on the sidewalk. We'd be willing to offer you your freedom in exchange for whatever information you can give us on Arvin Sloane."

There was a brief pause. "You're assuming a lot," Mandy countered. "Sloane's the smartest operator in the business. You think he'd be foolish enough to talk with someone who's part of the rank and file?"

"You came here to lend assistance to Stephen Saunders," Vaughn countered, "who is high enough on the food chain to deal with Sloane."

"Last I checked, Saunders was on a plane that's right outside the door," Mandy countered. "Why make a deal with me instead of him?"

Vaughn, who wanted nothing more than to rip Saunders' throat out with his teeth the minute he got the location of Nadia and Isabelle, knew this was a good point. "We don't think he's going to be as reasonable as you are," he tried.

"So, what, you're dealing over here so they don't have to over there?" Mandy asked sarcastically.

"You've stopped shooting at me," Vaughn pointed out. "Which would seem to indicate you're more amenable than he is."

There was a longer pause. "I'm coming out," she finally shouted. "Don't take the opportunity to kill me."

Vaughn waited until Mandy was in his line of sight before doing the same, keeping his gun at his side.

"What do I have to do?" the hired gun asked.

"One: you find a way to get Stephen Saunders out of the airplane he's holed up in. Two: where did Saunders take my sister-in-law and Irina Derevko? Three: where do I find Sloane?" Vaughn stated bluntly.

"This a multiple choice quiz, or is there an 'all of the above' option that you haven't played yet?" Mandy asked.

"Think of it as… a formula," Vaughn deliberately responded. "In order to obtain your goal, certain conditions have to be met."

Mandy considered this. "Total immunity for everything I've been responsible for," she said. "And I don't tell you shit, until I get word from the Attorney General."

She'd done her homework. "Give me a minute," he said, holstering his weapon and taking out his cell.

"Dixon, CTU."

Marcus sounded a little more tired than he had a few minutes ago, but Vaughn didn't respond to this. "The woman known as Mandy is willing to give up her contacts with Saunders and Sloane in exchange for immunity," he told her.

"You're sure that she can deliver?"

"Have Sydney and Jack made any progress finding Sark and Anna?" Vaughn countered.

"They think they may have a location," Dixon told him, "I sent a chopper to get them out there, but they haven't reported in and it's been nearly twenty minutes."

"Then this may be our only option."

"Vaughn—"

"Hey, I don't like dealing with the devil any more than you, but unless we've made any other progress on getting Saunders out of the plane—"

"There has been a development there," Dixon didn't seem to be happy to be revealing this.

"What kind of—"

"Saunders uncoupled the plane from the hangar. Jack Bristow tried to take advantage of him—" now Dixon sounded very bad "—and Saunders shot him."

It took all of Vaughn's self restraint to not react to this. "He's dead?" he managed in a remarkably calm voice

"Seems to be," Dixon told him as calmly as he could manage, "and Saunders sent out one last message over the transmitter, saying that he would kill one hostage every five minutes until the plane was allowed to take off. So far, he's been making good on his threats."

"What are you telling me?"

"I'll call the President and tell him to rush this, but if this woman can't resolve this, and soon," Dixon took a deep breath, "we may have to go to our contingency plan."

Vaughn had known about this, but hadn't wanted to dwell on it. "You're saying that…"

"In order to stop Saunders, we may have to either take the plane by force, or shoot it down."

**4:11:26/4:11:27/4:11:28/4:11:29**

Unlike Sark, Jack had known enough about the mountains to know that at some point using a car wasn't going to be feasible. Therefore, he had radioed ahead for a helicopter to meet them when they got to the intersection of Mulholland Drive and the 405.

Meanwhile, Sydney had gotten enough information from Marshall to realize that they were going to have trouble touching down when they finally caught up with them. Her way around this particular knot was to make sure that the chopper they rode had parachutes. She knew that traditionally choppers didn't fly high enough to make parachutes a particularly valuable item, but she and Jack had enough experience in using them that they could work around this problem. Of course, there was a possibility that Sark and the others would be looking for them in the air, and would shoot them down with a rocket launcher, but right now, they would have to take this heading under acceptable risks. They would also have to do this without backup—Dixon had a devil of a time just getting a helicopter out to them.

"You know there's also the possibility that Sark and Anna were finished with their work, and are in the wind again," Sydney told Jack. "Got any plans should that eventuality arise?"

"That last thing we got off the sniper's vehicle had to have come from Sark," Jack pointed out. "We've run into some dumb hostiles before, but they'd have to pretty thick to leave directions that clear in a place they knew CTU would find."

"You're still betting that Sark is keeping his word," Sydney countered.

"You've known him longer than I have," Jack argued. "But last time we dealt with him, he did keep his word, after a fashion. So far, he's done his part."

Sydney clearly didn't buy this. "For all we know, this is just another trap," she pointed out.

"That is possible," Jack admitted. "However, I don't think it is. After all, given all the problems we've given Sloane today, and how close we are to the deadline, I don't think they're going to be that elaborate in killing us anymore."

"Too bad real spies aren't like they are in the movies," Sydney noted.

At this point, the pilot yelled back at them. "We're approaching the highest parts of the mountain."

"Tell Dixon that we're jumping out at 4000 feet!" Jack yelled at the pilot. "If we're right about how this will work, Sark and Anna should be at the summit!"

The pilot nodded, and began to pull into his final position. Both Jack and Sydney put on their biological masks in case the chemical was already airborne.

"You ready for this?" Jack asked.

Sydney nodded. "It's time we finished this."

And Jack knew she wasn't just talking about the prophecy this time.

*

"Papers are being drafted and sent to you now," Dixon told the President. "However, some new information has come to light that I feel you are entitled to know before you sign off on this."

"Did you find something about her history?"

"The pardon is made out for a woman named Amanda Krieg," Dixon began "Using that name, one of our techs was able to do a somewhat limited background check, and found out some of her former associations."

"She's worked for Sloane before?"

"Not as far as we can see," Dixon told him. "However, we were able to track payments to her from an LA banker named Ted Kofell. From then on, it wasn't that difficult to find links almost four years ago to Ira Gaines and Andre Drazen."

"Why are you telling me this?" the President asked. "I already gave a similar deal to Julian Sark, and his crimes are far worse than the ones that this woman has owned up to."

"You really want to let one of the people who was behind the plot to assassinate you walk away scot-free?"

"Mr. Dixon, I appreciate your loyalty, but right now we are faced with nothing less than the possibility of the death of the world," the President reminded him. "This country can not afford for me to value my vengeance at a higher cost. If there ever comes a way that we can grab this Krieg, then I have faith we will do it. Right now, we have larger concerns."

The President had to know that given this pardon, Amanda Krieg (if this was even her real name) would do her best to turn invisible the second the government no longer required her assistance. Under other circumstances he might have argued, but he knew that the crimes this woman had committed today were minor compared with the ones that Sloane was planning. So he simply said: "A copy of the document should already be at your office."

**4:18:47/4:18:48/4:18:49**

Vaughn got off the phone. "The President's signing your pardon now," he told Mandy. "Now you're going to start talking. Where the fuck do we find Arvin Sloane?"

"I was supposed to contact Sloane once I completed my primary protocol," Mandy began. "The murder of Stephen Saunders."

Instantly Vaughn was baffled. "I captured a man who said you used him to get Saunders on the plane."

"Which is how we're going to kill him," Mandy said. "Though I have to admit, I don't believe the bullshit that Sloane was spinning when he told me what he said was going to happen.."

_Great. She never knew the whole details of the plan. That makes the possibility she has direct contact with Sloane very unlikely. _With a sinking feeling, Vaughn motioned for her to continue.

"Supposedly, Sloane has this fluid or formula or whatever running through his veins that makes him indestructible," Mandy began. "Sounded like a load of crap to me, but he believes. He also made a diluted version of that fluid that had similar effects that was to be given to certain people."

"And you weren't one of them?" Vaughn asked doubtfully.

"I just go where the money is," Mandy said with a shrug. "I haven't got any use for this Rimbaldi horseshit. I'm not a nut job like Sloane."

"What do you know about this fluid?" Vaughn asked

"It had similar effects to the real deal, but it wasn't nearly as strong as what he had," Mandy continued in a tone that just oozed doubt. "You'd survive a gunshot to the head or a knife to the throat. But if there was a massive explosion, your body wouldn't do that Terminator CGI stuff that Sloane says he's got working for him."

"Let me see if I've got this straight," Vaughn said. "The only reason you got Stephen Saunders on the plane—"

"—was so that we'd have to blow it up, yes," Mandy said in a blasé manner. "You hadn't figured that out yet? He planned the same kind of thing for Li Chen Wang."

Vaughn wouldn't have thought it possible, but his blood began to run cold.. "You're telling me Sloane was planning to take out the ship carrying Wang back to China?"

"No," Mandy said, looking at her watch. "I'm telling you that as of an hour ago, one of his associates already has."

*

Getting shot was nothing like it was in the movies. You did not roll when you hit the ground, into a doorway, and return fire. Even with Kevlar, that was nowhere near the case. Your body goes into shock, and you fall over. Being shot in the chest will more or less do double that effect.

And so, while Steven Saunders fired at the emergency vehicles that blockaded his plane on the runway, and chaos happening all around, several things were going on.

First, the passengers at the back of the plane were more than happy to start an evacuation. On a 747, one man could not control everyone on board. So, while the people in first class and business, at the front of the plane, were well within Saunders realm of influence, the people in coach didn't have a problem with grabbing what luggage they could, opening the emergency exits, and sliding down the inflatable ramp.

Second, Saunders, fully aware of it, kept firing at the crews on the ground. The more people left now, the fewer he would need to control later. He didn't want to have to deal with a whole bunch of police officers or jocks from coach to get any brave ideas—a few dozen pantywaists in first and business class were easier to handle. Several bullets had struck him, ripping through his body, but they healed within short order.

Third, the CTU spotters had seen Jack Bristow, blood pooling around him, leaking from his chest, aspirating from his mouth, and declared him dead... and if he wasn't dead, then he would be by the time anyone could get close enough to rescue him.

And then, with a groan, Jack Bristow rolled over onto his stomach.

With his usual precision—this time a little less brisk than usual—Sydney's father looked at his watch. A quarter of an hour had gone by. Wasted time. Can't have that. What was Bauer's constant refrain? "There's no time"? This was truly the case. Dealing with Saunders was going to get people killed, drawing off precious resources that couldn't be diverted now.

Saunders had to be stopped.

Bristow reached into his jacket and drew his weapon. This would be difficult if the plane were moving, but since that wasn't an issue...

He tapped his comm unit. "Boyscout...come...in..."

Jack took a moment to take aim... squeezed off one shot. That was only one in an exchange of a thousand rounds a minute bursts of automatic fire. It hit the mark immediately. The gas tank on the left wing sprung a leak.

A moment later, Vaughn's voice came on. "Jack, is that you?"

Bristow coughed to clear out his lungs. More blood. Bright red blood. Arterial. That wasn't good. He only had minutes left. "Evacuate....the area... from around... the...plane."

"Jack, what are you doing?"

"There's.... no... time. Do it... now!"

There was a pause, and the shooting stopped from the other vehicles. They ran to the right of the airplane, staying out of Saunders' line of fire.

"Jack," Vaughn came back on again. "My spotters say that you shot open the gas tank in the wing of the airplane. What are you—"

"Tell Sydney... I said goodbye."

Before Vaughn could go on shouting in his ear, Jack pulled the comm unit out.

He looked at the pool of gasoline and smiled as he squeezed the trigger.

Steven Saunders had just enough time to see the fireball that killed both him and Jack Bristow.

**4:29:14/4:29:15/4:29:16/4:29:17**

They had landed on the easternmost face of the mountain, which according to Marshall, was less than a quarter mile from the summit. Since they had neither been shot at as they fell or blown out of the sky on approach, both Sydney and Jack assumed that they were on the other side of the mountains. Of course, there was also the possibility that they had heard their approach and had already begun to bolt, but Syd knew that Jack was right: they didn't have much in the way of options.

Now as they stopped roughly two hundred feet from the top, Jack took out his binoculars and looked up ahead. "Looks like somebody's here," he whispered as he looked to the west.

"See any familiar faces?" Sydney asked in the same whisper

Jack looked for a few more seconds. "Well, there's definitely one woman there," he told her.

Sydney managed to maintain a façade of calm even as dull rage ran through her. "What's the head count?" she asked calmly.

He looked around another few seconds. "Unless they've got some in reserve, I count five," he told her, handing her the binoculars. "It looks like they've just finished loading some primitive air cannon."

Sydney took the glasses and looked up ahead. "Sloane must be running on a limited budget if that what he's planning on using to disperse the virus," she told him.

"He's already short on manpower," Jack reminded her. "And we've taken out a lot of his gadgets already."

Sydney in the meantime, was swallowing back some bile. In addition to confirming that Anna was there, she had just spotted Sark. "Looks like the gang's all here, save for the Big Bad Wolf," she told him. "How do you want to play this?"

"Three guards have set up some kind of perimeter around the summit," Jack told her. "I say we work so that one of us sneaks up behind them, take a couple of them out, and while they're distracted, the other one secures the vial and takes out the others."

"You still insist that we bring in Sark alive?" Sydney asked.

"We only need one of them to tell us how to find Nadia and Isabelle, and right now, he's the most likely one to have the information," Jack pointed out.

"And I suppose I don't have to raise the question as to how we handle Anna," Sydney argued.

"Just one thing," Jack said. "When you kill her, make it hurt."

Even through the biological mask she was wearing, Jack could see the hints of a predatory grin. "Then let's end this."

*

Ironically, had the men who were obdurate lookouts actually done the job they were here to do instead of keeping an eye on their prisoners (as Sloane had instructed), they probably would have survived what happened next. Instead, the one guarding the easternmost edge of the path didn't notice Sydney climbing up the hill...

Sark, however, being his usual observant self, did notice her. Anna's attention was diverted by loading the air canon, but Sark had made a point of surviving by staying aware of what was going on around him, in addition to doing the job. He sighed, and shook his head. This was so familiar, his head nearly hurt from the deja vu.

He casually strolled over to one of the men guarding him—most likely ready to kill him and/or Anna at first opportunity—and wrapped an arm around him.

Sark then lifted his sidearm and shot him with it.

Sark whirled, shooting Sloane's men as though they were figures in Hogan's Alley.

Anna cursed as she pushed the button, firing the air cannon, then she pivoted, swept up a rock, and threw it with such precision that it took the weapon out of Sark's hands. "I knew you couldn't be trusted," she said, pulling out her weapon.

"I'd worry about myself, if I were you," Sydney said as she fired a couple of shots towards Anna.

Even though, like Sydney, she was covered in protective gear, Anna was fast on her feet, and she easily rolled away from the shots. She retaliated by jumping at Sydney, and the two of them tumbled over each down the hill. Both managed to maintain grips on their weapons, but Anna managed to yank Sydney's biological mask off her face.

When they finally came to a stop on a ledge nearly twenty feet below where they had started, a rock had punched a hole through Anna's suit and there were little holes in the suits that they each wore. If the virus was already airborne, both of them risked the possibility of infection; right then, neither woman gave a shit.

They both looked down at their ruined suits, then at each other, and almost by mutual consent they ripped their bulky and restrictive biohazard suits from their bodies. If they were infected, then one wanted to live just long enough for the other to die.

Anna, however, got rid of hers first and drew down on Sydney.

Anna fired two more shots before her gun started clicking. Sydney managed to dodge both and charged her. "You're out of ammo," she snarled at her archenemy.

"So are you," Anna snarled back before lashing out and kicking Sydney's legs out from under her.

Sydney and Anna looked at each, circling, each feeling considerably worn by everything that had happened today...rolling down a hill didn't help.

Sydney felt her heart rate accelerating and she looked at Anna. She tried to convince herself to be professional, that they needed the woman, but she couldn't accept it. Her daughter and sister had been abducted, her mother was probably bleeding to death, and she was thinking about being professional with this vapid whore.

"By the way, Sydney," Anna said, smirking, "I haven't checked yet, but Sloane says he wants Nadia dead, and I'm more than willing to finish what I started."

Sydney didn't even know if she was moving, time was dilating, her synapses firing like automatic weapons. She slammed into Anna with a full tackle, her hands wrapping around Anna's throat, before the other woman had an idea what was happening. As they hit the ground, Syd drove her knee into Anna's gut, with all the force she could muster.

Anna released her, and decked Syd with a right hook so fierce Sydney felt teeth loosen in her jaw. But she didn't even feel, driving up with her own uppercut and following with an elbow against Anna's face, crushing her cheek. Anna roared, bucking Sydney off.

They came to their feet, and closed again. Sydney threw a hook of her own, but Anna blocked it, both of her hands going for her face, meaning to gouge. Sydney twisted her head and charged forward ramming against the bridge of the nose. When Anna moved in with her other hand, Sydney went with the pull, so when Anna's fingers found their target, her eyes were closed but her mouth was open.

She bit down into the fleshy part of Anna's hand, hard and deep. A good chunk of flesh came out. Espinoza withdrew, howling in pain. However, Sydney gave her no time to recover, charging with an enraged yell, driving her shoulder into Anna, lifting her off the ground, and slamming her into a tree. She snapped an elbow in Anna's face, then launched a hammer blow. Anna leaped forward, into Sydney's defense, reaching under Sydney's arms and grabbing her hair.

Sydney's right hand went up and grabbed Anna's left ear, driving through the cartilage with her nails. Getting a good grip before she yanked. A good part of her ear came off.

Either the adrenaline was running hard, or Anna, like Sydney, was no longer feeling pain, because all Anna did was launch forward, and driven them both to the ground. Anna kneed her in the gut, twice, then got two shots at her rib cage and one at her crotch

Then Sydney grabbed Anna's wrists, locking her into position, pulling her head forward. She didn't even notice a large, bloody hank of hair coming out. All that matter was that she was face-level with her adversary.

Which is when Sydney bit down into her nose. Anna thrashed reflexively, which was the worst thing she could have done. She grabbed at Sydney's jaw with both hands. Which is when Sydney let go.

Then her left hand came up the side of the face like a caress—until her thumbnail pierced Anna's eyeball. Then she flexed her fingers, her thumb scooping out the eye, and her other fingers digging into the flesh of Anna's cheek.

Anna was now past sense or reason, she was just following her instinct, screaming at her to get away.

At that same moment, Sydney raked the hand down her face in a tae kwon do move known as a bear claw, which did exactly what it was advertised to Anna's face.

At this point, the blood loss alone Anna had suffered would have killed her, but Sydney was long past such things as that. She kept coming, a sidekick, followed by a hammer-fist. Then a roundhouse, a reverse to a hammer blow, another elbow, and then another hammer blow.

Sydney launched forward, straddling her, pinning her arms with her knees, and hooking her thumb into the dead socket to turn Anna's head.

Then Sydney just starting hitting. For every bullet fired at her. For every threat to the people she cared about. For every blow she herself had taken. She hit Anna until her knuckles were bleeding, and was about to switch to her palm, when she finally looked down, and saw that her enemy was no longer breathing..

Whether it was the chest pain or the blood loss, Syd didn't know, and ultimately why was irrelevant.

Anna Espinoza was finally dead..

"We're done, you cunt," Sydney whispered numbly. She looked at her fingers, covered with blood and gore, as were her clothes. She imagined she looked like a vampire in need of a napkin.

For a long moment, Sydney felt like screaming, whether in pain or triumph, she did not know.

Instead, she began to climb back up to Sark to see if he was going to fight. She almost hoped he was.

**4:41:09/4:41:10/4:41:11/4:41:12**

Sark had been more than willing to give up without any kind of fight, much to Jack's dismay.

"I never had a moment of doubt. You and Agent Bristow have a way of always coming out on top."

_Then why did you help with this scheme in the first place? _Jack thought but didn't say. "Give me a reason I shouldn't blow your brains out and say you resisted arrest," he said instead in a remarkably level tone.

"You need me to find Sloane?" Sark asked.

"Oh, you're going to tell me where to find him," Jack said, as he stepped over one of the men he had killed getting to Sark. "What I'm asking is why you should be allowed to live the moment after you finish."

It seemed like Sark's eternal calm was finally fractured; sweat was pouring down his cheeks. "You know as well as I do the meaning of deep cover, Mr. Bauer," he said, swallowing. "I needed to keep Sloane's trust, and the only way to do so was to make it seem like I'd betrayed you."

"Did that betrayal have to include bombing CTU and kidnapping Nadia?" Jack said in his eerily calm voice. "Or leaving a sniper to try and kill us?"

Sark would have started backing away, but there was no ground behind him. "Short of drawing you a map, I did everything to make sure you could always find me," he said frantically.

"All the deaths that followed because of what you did are a violation of that agreement you signed last night," Jack told him. "There's no reason for me to show you any mercy at all."

Sark's eyes widened. Not just because of the steel in Jack's expression, but because Sydney had just appeared from the hill, looking like a refugee from a George Romero film.

"Your friends are all gone, Julian," Sydney said in a slightly disconnected voice. "And judging from the way you're acting, I'm betting Sloane didn't trust you enough to give us a dose of whatever Rimbaldi fluid he's got running through his veins." She looked at the fired air cannon. "Not to mention that you just killed LA. So what could you possibly give us in order to make us even give a second thought about keeping you alive?"

He twisted the helmet off of his suit, placing it on the ground. Sark smiled, smug, sat and leaned back, his arms folded around him. "Actually, I happen to be the hero this time."

Jack and Sydney exchanged a glance. "Excuse me?" Syd asked.

Sark smiled. "Did you think I was going to keep my word while letting the whole world burn?" He leaned forward. "It may be true that I have breached the letter of the written agreement, but I have kept my word every step of the way. Including this." He patted the box he sat on.

"What is it?'

Sark smiled as he stood up, taking the box with him. Inside the box had been a small suitcase. "There is your vial. The air cannon was supposed to fire a canister of the virus diluted with saline for better air dispersal. Instead, it fired out saline, pure and simple." He dropped the box on the ground and put one foot on it. "Now then, shall we continue, or shall we continue to spout threats at one another?"

**4:48:34/4:48:35/4:48:36/4:48:37**

"You're sure about this information?" Vaughn asked Dixon.

"Marshall's trying to get the rest of the details," Dixon admitted, "but how often has he been wrong?"

Vaughn knew better than to answer. "What does the President have to say?"

"We put him in a position remarkably similar to this one a couple years back, remember?" Dixon said. "He made the best decision possible."

"And it blew up in all our faces," Vaughn reminded him

"Yeah, but now the stakes are even higher than Sloane managing to slip through our grasp," Dixon pointed out. "We screw this up—"

Before he could finish the sentence, the other line beeped. "Hold on," Vaughn said. "Yeah."

There was a pause. "Vaughn?" said a voice that sounded more exhausted then he could ever remember it being in all the skirmishes and battles with the Covenant, or Rimbaldi, or almost anything else.

"Sydney? Are you all right?" The moment the words were out of his mouth he regretted them, because he knew what the answer had to be.

"Anna's dead," she said, in lieu of an answer. "I had to literally tear her limb from limb, but it's done."

"What about Sark?" he asked.

"For now, he's alive," Sydney said calmly. "He's giving us the last locations of the virus, and he's going to tell us where to find our daughter and Nadia. Just a little longer, and this horror show will finally be behind us."

Vaughn could hear the barest trace of hope is Sydney's voice, and he knew right now, he was going to have to delay it, if not altogether dash it. "Sydney, there've been some developments in the last hour or so."

There was a long pause. "I think we're long past the point of euphemisms, Vaughn," Sydney finally said. "What the fuck's gone wrong now?"

Vaughn decided to go with the least painful news first. "Li Chen Wang never made it to China," he began slowly.

There was a definite pause. "What? How do you know this?"

"I just got off the phone with the Navy. They provided passage of the freighter that was taking Wang back into Chinese territorial waters. Approximately four hours ago, the _U.S.S. Manchester_ received a distress call from one of the crew. He claimed that Wang had somehow escaped from his shackles, and begun to attack the men onboard."

"What the hell went wrong?" Sydney demanded.

"We have no idea," Vaughn continued grimly, "because seventeen minutes later, there was an explosion originating below deck. There was less than a ten-minute gap between that and the arrival of rescue teams, but that was more than enough. The waters were shark infested, and by the time they got there, no one was left alive, including Wang."

There was a long pause. "And the Chinese are claiming what, exactly?" Sydney finally asked. "That we did something to either Wang or the ship and that violates whatever conditions they negotiated with the President earlier?"

"Their language was pretty restrained, but yes," Vaughn told her. "They're now saying that unless Sloane is brought to justice immediately, their government will follow through with the original plans and announce a declaration of war before the United Nations by the beginning of tomorrow's session, which begins in a little more than an hour."

**4:53:30/4:53:31/4:53:32**

Sydney did not despair often, but now she felt like someone who, having climbed Kilimanjaro or the Matterhorn, had been told that they have to do it all over again.

"Will they settle for seeing his rotting corpse?" she said, managing to keep her tone level.

"I think that would fit their standards," Vaughn said, "but from what we now know, it may be impossible for us to give them that."

Sydney took a deep breath. "Sark says that he knows how to find Sloane," she told him.

"And you believe him," Vaughn began.

"Not for a microsecond," Sydney assured him, "but it's not like we have many options right now."

"He give you or Jack any specifics?"

"Not yet." Sydney paused. "I was calling in the hope there was another way."

Vaughn considered this. "Marshall managed to translate a bit more of the document we recovered."

"Any clues?"

"Just the opposite," Vaughn said. "He says that while the virus may serve as the impetus for launching Rimbaldi's final solution, it can be circumvented if the devastation is caused another way."

_The prophecies aren't the problem. It's the loopholes that break our backs,_ Sydney thought to herself. "So what you're saying is if this war begins simultaneously with the sacrifice, it'll serve the same purpose as the virus."

"That's what I get from it," Vaughn told her grimly. "And as for finding Sloane, I was face to face with the woman who was responsible for a huge amount of the chaos that took place the last few hours, and she told me that she can't give us a current location on Sloane."

_The hits just keep on coming_. "So it's Sark or nothing," she said.

"I'm afraid so," Vaughn paused, because compared to everything else that he had just told her, _that _was the good news. "Syd, your father and I spent the last two hours trying to locate Stephen Saunders. In the process of chasing him, he took some hostages in an airplane—" he swallowed. "He was going to kill everyone. Most of the passengers got off, but he couldn't be stopped. He shot your father...and your father shot into the wing of the airplane. He stopped Saunders, and blew him to hell. But he... your father was caught in the explosion."

For a moment, it seemed that Sydney couldn't understand what she had just heard. "Dad's dead?" she said dumbly.

"I'm so sorry, Syd," Vaughn told her, knowing as well as anyone how hollow he must sound.

There was another interminable pause. When Sydney came back on the line, there was the slightest hint of a quiver in her voice—so faint, only someone who loved her would have noticed it. "I'll tell Dixon to honor the original agreement," she told him. "Then I'm going to get my sister and our daughter out of the hands of that madman, and I will do to him what I did to Anna. It might not kill him, but I'll feel better."

"I'll get there as fast as I can," Vaughn assured her.

"It's time to finish this."

**4:59:57/4:59:58/4:59:59/5:00:00**


	24. 5:00 AM TO 6:00 AM

**Chapter 24**

**The Following Takes Place Between 5:00 A.M. and 6:00 A.M.**

"Marshall?" Kim said

The genius stared at his computer for another moment, still clacking away, before he said, "Yes?"

"You're pretty smart, right?"

At this point, Flinkman blinked, then looked over at the blonde Bauer. He blinked a few more times, and said, "If I weren't, I'd be pretty useless."

"I was just thinking...remember how we were talking about how to take out Sloane a while ago?"

Marshall nodded, then his brow furrowed as he frowned. "Yeah. Almost forgot about that..."

Kim blinked, almost about to ask how he could have forgotten, but she'd been his babysitter too long to ask that. "You set it up so that it would inform you if something matched, right?"

"Of course."

"Oh, okay." She sighed lightly, then turned back to her computer. "And you're sure it would put in a failsafe, so..."

"You know, that's a problem."

Kim paused, then looked back to him. "What is?"

"I was thinking that Rimbaldi would put in a failsafe because it's automatic. But if he's some sort of genocidal, end the world, James Bond villain-like, why would he? With his point of view, the world so horrid and evil and grisly and—"

"I get the point Marshall."

He nodded. "Now, if we follow that train of thought, then why would he give us... the future us, not us at APO, of course, Sloane doesn't work here anymore... why would he give us ways to stop him?"

Kim nodded. "Didn't I ask that like two hours ago?" She sighed and turned around back towards her computer. There was still work to be done. "If I didn't know better, I would have said that this was one of your _Star Trek_ episodes."

Marshall blinked, then shrugged, then turned back to his computer...and then turned back. "What do you mean?"

Kim looked back at him. "Every time I hear you say something about _Star Trek_, it always sounds like there's _always_ a cosmic test by some superior alien race to prove whether or not whoever comes across them should survive."

Marshall nodded, then smiled. "Maybe you're right."

*

Arvin Sloane was on the verge of victory, ready to end the world as he, and all of his allies, knew it.

However, Sloane was a bit less certain than he was letting on. He had no doubt that the sacrifice would bring this about, but the reason he had created the virus was because it would be a much more purifying method than nuclear war. There wasn't enough data to prove that the body could survive exposure to nuclear material. He already knew that his immortal body could feel pain; would they enjoy the possibility of death by radiation, universally considered the most excruciating way to die, possibly over and over?

"Mr. Sloane." Walker, one of his few remaining allies, approached him.

"What is it?"

"The doctor has been doing everything that he can to keep Derevko alive," Walker began, "but he's almost positive she's started hemorrhaging. He can slow the bleeding, but even so she hasn't got much time left."

"Neither do we," Sloane said, looking at the sky. "I believe that it's time we got started." He began walking outside. "Get the boats ready, as well as the prisoners. I want to be out of here in three minutes."

**5:04:46/5:04:47/5:04:48**

"Jack, it's Dixon. Did you get the modifications for Sark's immunity agreement?"

Jack tucked the cell phone between his ear and shoulder. He moved towards one of the helicopters as he checked his pistol. "Yeah," Jack said. "Sark was willing to give up the location on Sloane. In order to make the sacrifice, Sloane needs a relatively big boat to make it that far into the Pacific. Sark says that he was going to do leave from Santa Monica Bay as of five minutes ago. We're going to take the chopper to close in on his last known coordinates."

"Which have to be in the middle of the Pacific Ocean."

"I've already contacted the Coast Guard. They'll be able to help us handle the rendezvous," Jack told him over the helicopter blades.

"If you go near Sloane's ship with a gunship, if he even hears a helicopter, he'll only speed up the ritual and kill everyone."

"We'll use the choppers to get close, then approach by water."

"And if Sloane is there, have you or Sydney figured out exactly how you're going to stop him from completing the ritual?"

Jack smiled as he spoke into the cell phone. "We don't have to kill him to stop the ritual—shooting him will stop him for a few minutes. That should give us enough time to restrain Sloane, and we can figure out what to do with him later. Right now, I just want Nadia and Isabelle back. We can worry about him later."

"What about the virus Sark captured?"

"We're bringing it with us. It might be a bargaining chip if it comes down to a standoff."

"Bargaining chip? Jack, are you nuts?"

Jack didn't reply as he slipped into the front seat of the helicopter, next to the pilot. Sydney was already secured behind him, Julian Sark seated next to her. The helicopter was already taking off when Bauer spoke again, his voice simple and cold, and deadly. "Dixon, right now, I don't give a damn what you think. If holding onto the virus can buy us even a moment to deal with Sloane, then it will be worth it. As far as I'm concerned, I will do whatever it takes to get both Isabelle and Nadia back alive. You can complain as much as you like afterwards, assuming we all live."

Dixon ground his teeth so hard, Bauer could hear it over the cell. "Anything else?"

"Yes, I need Kim and Marshall on the way to meet us at the harbor. That'll know what equipment to bring with them."

"Is that it?"

"Unless someone can give me a better suggestion—"

"Do I count?" Sark suddenly piped up..

Sydney glared at Sark. "Are you asking for us to push you out into the Pacific handcuffed?"

"As you have pointed out many, many times," Sark reminded her, "I am more than willing to do anything in order to survive. Since that possibility now rests entirely on you succeeding—"

Jack nearly rolled his eyes. "What do you have in mind?"

"There's a motorboat at the pier that's a Covenant prototype," Sark told him. "Supposedly the fastest thing on the water. I suspect that the only reason Sloane isn't on it right now is because it only seats two. And because at one point I was the head man of the conspiracy, I happen to know that it's right here and where the keys are."

"And what exactly is the catch?" Sydney asked.

"No catch, no escape clauses, no hidden snares," Sark told him. "Just take a quick journey, save your family, stop Sloane, and save the world. " He paused. "And remember this when you're considering whether or not to put a bullet in my brain."

Jack considered it quickly. "All right, but if you screw us on this, I will contact the guards we leave with you, they will shoot you, and say you died resisting arrest. Clear?"

Despite all the hostility, Sark seemed to have regained his equilibrium. "I would expect nothing less," he said calmly.

_We should give up trying to rattle him,_ Sydney thought. "All right," she said. "What have you got for us?'

**5:12:30/5:12:31/5:12:32/5:12:33**

One of the few advantages of being at Hawthorne Airport was that it wasn't that difficult to take a chopper up and out. Now that the final plans were in motion, Vaughn had no desire to stay, and he wanted to get as much distance between himself and the remains of Saunders as he possibly could.

Now that he was in the air, he dialed a number.

"CTU, Kim Bauer."

"Kim, it's Vaughn."

"Michael, I'm so sorry about what happened to Mr. Bristow," she said with a note of sorrow in her voice.

"So am I," Vaughn said honestly. He reflected for a moment on what happened. His relationship with his father-in-law was an odd one. The days when he liked him were marked with heavy doses of sarcasm. "Now, I guess it's our job to see that his sacrifice wasn't for nothing."

"Right now, Sark supposedly is taking my father and Sydney to Sloane's final location," Kim told him. "Do you think he's telling the truth?"

"Sydney and Jack are," Vaughn pointed out, "and at this point it's not like we have a lot of other options. Besides, Sark knows he's on a very short leash right now, and if Syd and your father think he's lying, they don't need much more motivation to push him out and see if he can fly."

"That may be true, but if Sark can be believed, Sloane's now got an entire ocean to play hide and seek in," Kim reminded him. "And he doesn't even have to spend much time avoiding from us before he can claim a win."

Vaughn didn't need to be reminded of this. "Have you got the final coordinates? I need to tell my pilot where to take me."

"Well, according to Sark, the final launching point for Sloane is the Post Harbor section of the Will Rogers State Beach, due northwest in the direction of Santa Monica Bay," Kim began typing figures on the keyboard. "I've already made contact with the Navy's sonar and radar systems and I'm going to be coordinating with them to see if we can track down anything that's out on the water now."

"Well, that'll help us find Sloane," Vaughn said. "I don't suppose that you've got any information on how to stop the son of a bitch when we find him."

'Funny you should mention that," Kim told him. "Marshall and I spent a good part of the last hour going through the program which had almost everything Rimbaldi ever wrote."

"Um, how many hundreds of pages were there in that file?" Vaughn asked.

"It's amazing what Marshall can get done with one of his programs and a photographic memory," Kim reminded him.

"What did you find?"

"Nothing, actually."

"All that and nothing?"

"It surprised me, too."

"Given all the crap that Rimbaldi usually puts us through to solve one of these things, I would have expected a treatise."

"Yeah, I know... "

"The bloodletting that Sloane has to do in order to pull this off, does that he have to do it _at _sunrise or _by _sunrise?"

"The language is unclear," Kim paused, then plunged. "But knowing what I do about Sloane and Rimbaldi, he'll do whatever he has to make sure that we can't get through any loopholes. Which means he'll probably start spilling blood the second he thinks he's in the right spot."

"And we still don't know how much blood he needs?"

Kim figured it would have to be quite a lot, but knew Vaughn didn't need to hear this. "I'll keep you updated on whatever coordinates I manage to get. You concentrate on getting there ASAP. Marshall and I will meet you there."

Vaughn blinked, and would have baulked. "What? Why?"

"You remember the heart monitors that Marshall talked about? He kept going on about them since they were in those _Rainbow 6_ games he plays? We're going to set one up and run comm from there, and tell you where the bad guys are without needing to see them."

"How?"

"I'm assuming we're in the back of the boat while you, Dad, and Syd go and kill everyone."

**5:19:53/5:19:54/5:19:55**

"How far out are we?" Sloane demanded, looking through his binoculars

"About six miles," said the man standing at the wheel.

It wasn't clear to Nadia whether this was far enough for her father or not, but she soon got a clear idea.

"Jacobson, get the rocket launcher ready," Sloane ordered, "and bring out Derevko."

As Jacobson went below deck, Nadia couldn't help but notice something. Sloane already had her hogtied to the port, and he was probably going to kill her any minute, so it wasn't like things could get much worse. "So where are the rest of your loyal followers?"

"Your friends and your sister have done a pretty good job of killing them all," Sloane admitted. "On the plus side, since I didn't waste any of my fluid on them, there are going to be fewer people I have to worry about getting immortality."

"I suppose there's a bright side, even about the end of the world," Nadia said with as much irony as she could manage. "You won't have to worry about paying any extra money out to whatever minions you have left. Speaking of which, just how many minions do you have left with a pulse?"

"Now's not the time to be criticizing your captors," one of the others on deck said nervously.

"You're already going to kill me; it's not like I have much left to lose," Nadia managed in a relatively glib tone. "And I'd think that you'd be very concerned. You see, there are currently nine people on this point. Three of them are supposedly your prisoners, which leaves you with six gallant soldiers, not counting my father, who is currently invincible and doesn't count. Now when Jack and Sydney come for me—" she looked directly at her father "and trust me, they will, they're going to come with enough backup to take over Encino. How long do you think it will take for them to put you down like dogs?"

"If we spill your blood soon enough, it won't matter whether they do it or not," the thug said.

"Last I checked, this thing takes out 99% of the world's population," Nadia reminded them. " Just what do you think the odds are that all five of you have the exact genetic makeup that will enable you to survive this plague that's coming? I mean, even if he has given you whatever formula—"

She never finished as Sloane had walked right up to her and slapped her across the face.

"I think we've long since passed the point where you could have anything productive to say," Sloane told her almost casually. "My men all know that the chances they have of surviving this outbreak are slim, but compared to the mercies of CTU and your friends, those odds are positively stratospheric. All of you managed to do is force me to intensify your pain.

"And I repeat, you can't exactly kill me twice."

"No, but I can make your last minutes infinitely more painful."

Jacobson had returned with Irina slung over his shoulder. Before, her mother would have made him pay dearly for this, but given how pale she was and how blood-soaked her clothes were, it was clear the mighty Irina Derevko was no longer a danger to anyone.

"You've made it clear that you don't consider her your mother any more," Sloane said, as he helped lug her over to the edge of the starboard. "Then it's not going to bother you to watch this happen."

"…no..." Apparently sensing the end was near, Irina made an effort to grab at Sloane's arms.

"I'm truly sorry for this, Irina, " Sloane said with his usual faux dismay. "I had hoped that we could usher in the new age together. Instead, I wish you peace, and the knowledge that your death shall not be for nothing."

Moving quicker than Nadia would have thought possible, Sloane took out a large knife, and stabbed Irina in the chest and the neck. Then, before the blood could begin to truly flow, he and Jacobson heaved her over the side.

And despite everything that Irina had ordered and tried to do, Nadia's felt a huge pain fill her body. Refusing to show her father any sign of weakness, she clamped her mouth shut, but a small gasp of pain emerged nonetheless.

_The next one is going to be Isabelle_ she thought through her anguish. _Hurry, Syd. We don't have much longer._

**5:28:11/5:28:12/5:28:13/5:28:14**

Bristow, Bauer, and Sark jumped out of the helicopter before it had even touched down. Kim and Marshall, each carrying backpacks of equipment, waited for theirs to land first. By the time they left the chopper, Jack had already gotten to the Covenant speedboat and had the engine going.

Sydney, holding onto Sark's arm, noted Kim on approach. "Where are we on locating Sloane?" Sydney shouted over the helicopters.

Kim didn't look up from her hand. She held onto a palmtop computer, looking over the data as it came in. It used to be an iPhone before Marshall got his hands on it. "I'm correlating our systems with Navy radar. Fortunately, there aren't a lot of ships on the water. We should be—"

Chloe chose that moment to butt in over their comms. "Got it!" she told them. "There's a large schooner called _Mirage._ Papers trace it back to a holding company once owned by Elena Derevko. Say this for Sloane, he's a firm believer in 'waste not, want not'."

Jack revved the engine again. "What are its coordinates?" he demanded.

Kim smiled as the data finished downloading from the satellites. "According to this, quadrant East 37 degrees, 29 minutes, north 55 degrees, 47 minutes!"

Jack looked over at the dashboard.. "According to that, we're roughly seven miles away. How far out is the Coast Guard?"

"Ten minutes, give or take."

"We can't wait that long," Sydney responded. She looked to the two agents as they got out of their helicopters. "Take this man and chain him to the struts of the helicopter. Then get on the radio and tell Agent Vaughn to stay with his chopper and keep back until the fireworks begin."

Sark smiled as Kim Bauer strode past him. "Hello, madam. And which one of the general cast are you?"

Kim hardly broke stride as she drove the edge of one of the equipment suitcases into Sark's gut. He doubled over, gasping for breath, and smiled at Kim's back. "Never mind, you must be Bauer's daughter."

Kim looked at the speedboat and sighed. She thought this job would mean being left in the office. So much for that idea. "Come on, Marshall."

He groaned. "I hate fieldwork."

**5:35:05/5:35:06/5:35:07**

Because Nadia had been trying to discreetly work free of her bonds while keeping an eye on the sky, she hadn't made a sound. However, as another one of the thugs approached with Isabelle in his arms, two things occurred to her simultaneously. Since right now, buying time was in everybody's interest, she decided to make them public.

"So now you're going to bleed my niece," she began, just barely managing to keep a crack out of her voice. "What exactly are you waiting for? Don't tell me you're getting squeamish now."

"In order for this to work properly, all three of your life-bloods must intermix just as the sun comes up," Sloane was maintaining his even tone to the last. "That's a considerable amount, and as you're well aware, a toddler has a lot less blood than a full-grown woman."

Even before two of the other thugs began moving towards her, she suddenly got the picture. "You're going to bleed me before you kill Isabelle," she realized.

"It takes a bit longer for the blood to flow out of a woman," Sloane responded, choosing not to answer. "I had to time this precisely in order for this to work."

Before Nadia could respond, she felt the muzzles of two pistols on her stomach.

"I'll have them make it quick," Sloane said. "I'm afraid that's all the kindness I can manage."

"Don't do me any favors, Sloane," Nadia said coldly. "Kind words aren't going to make this any less selfish."

Sloane brought the knife to bear.

**5:36:22/5:36:23/5:36:24/5:36:25**

Despite Nadia's estimate, there were more thugs on the boat than she had been allowed to see. One of them happened to be on the aft portion of the deck, staring aimlessly out into the black sea. He had been bored already, long simply staring out into the void, certain that anything fast enough to catch up to them, or cause the boat any sort of trouble, would be noisy enough to give him fair warning.

The last thing he noticed was the flash of a knife blade as it pierced his brain.

Jack Bauer twisted the knife into the man's temple, then jerked it out again, letting him fall to the deck as the APO agent leapt over the banister. He slipped his knife away and drew his gun, scanning the deck for anyone else. "Kim, Marshall, you're next."

The two of them came up as Jack moved quietly to one side, looking around the wall leading to the port side. He couldn't see anyone, but with the crates on deck, he couldn't be certain. He wheeled back, looking towards starboard, just in case someone came through at an inopportune time.

Kim was the first one up, and stepped to one side. A rope dangled from her belt down to the ship below, and she quickly worked on dragging the equipment up. Marshall quickly joined her. By the time Syd had reached the deck, the heartbeat monitor was already set up and running.

"Can you hear me?" Kim spoke into her comm.

"Copy."

"Copy."

Marshall stared at the screen and smiled. "We're up and running. It's just like in R_ainbow Six_. This is so cool," he whispered.

Sydney went port, and Jack starboard. Each of them were deathly silent as they moved along the deck, guns drawn, sound suppressors firmly attached to both barrels.

They both stared at the screen, the little blips representing their people moving forward. Kim stared hard at one piece of geography. "Syd, there's one right around the next crate, and another to your nine o'clock as you shoot him."

Sydney moved carefully along one crate, and spun, barely needing to aim before she pulled the trigger. She wheeled in towards the ship and snapped off another shot, killing the second man.

"Jack," Marshall whispered. "Eleven o'clock high, then twelve."

Jack sprinted out from behind the crate providing him covered, fired twice at the guard on the upper deck as he ran, then another double tap into the guard ahead of him.

"Okay, now there aren't any more heartbeats between you and the bow," Marshall said. "And there, we have about two, four, six heartbeats. One's really tiny, and all of them are beating strongly."

"Which means that Irina isn't on board anymore," Jack replied.

"Then there's one to hold each hostage," Syd whispered harshly, "and Sloane to cut them."

"I have an idea."

*

Nadia was fast coming to the conclusion that this was not going to be her day. She had spent her afternoon being stabbed and in surgery, and now her father was slowly carving her up like a turkey.

_Which is ironic, _she thought. _We never really got around to celebrating Thanksgiving together, did we?_ _Odd what occurs to you at times like this._

At which point, Jacobson yelled: "I have some movement about a mile off the starboard bow! Looks like a Coast Guard helicopter!"

"Take it out," Sloane said.

"They're not going to be in range for at least a minute—"

"_I will not be stopped now." _There was genuine anger in Sloane's voice at last, and Jacobson knew better to anger the invulnerable. He began to shift the weapon.

Before he could finish, there was gunfire. Only it came from the port side instead of the starboard. The helmsman fell to his knees.

Everyone's attention shifted to the starboard side, except for Sloane and Nadia.

"I knew it was a mistake to leave Sark alive," Sloane muttered. He motioned to the man on his left. "Take them out the second they're in range, Jacobson," he ordered.

Sloane tugged Nadia away from his man, holding her, and nodded for him to also grab a weapon. Arvin adjusted his grip. With her hands tied behind her back, he felt most secure holding her from behind, the knife at her throat.

At that point, everything happened at the same moment. Gunfire split the night air from the sky, and Jacobson and his compatriot tried to fire into the air.

*

From their location, Vaughn hadn't been able to see Sloane, which was probably a blessing as he was currently about as agitated as you could get without exploding.

"Can you tell how many people are on the boat?" he shouted to the co-pilot.

"Looks like five," came the reply, "but—" Suddenly he blinked. "Shit! One's of them targeting us with a rocket launcher!"

"Taking evasive maneuvers!" the pilot said.

The chopper was fast and the pilot was good, but it was hard to avoid a projectile of this size. They dodged the rocket, but it scratched their struts as it streamed past.

"He hit us in the tail!" the pilot shouted. "It's going to get hard to keep us up in the air!"

"Never mind keeping us up!" Vaughn shouted. "You get us as close to the ship as you can!"

*

In all the noise, five sound-suppressed shots coughed into the melee. One came from Sydney's gun, splitting through Jacobson's brain, and another came from Jack's weapon, dropping the second shooter.

Sydney's next bullet slammed into the brain of the man holding Isabelle. The next two bullets came from Jack's gun, knocking Sloane's man backwards, leaving his body to cushion Isabelle's fall.

Sloane jerked backwards, putting Nadia between him and the two agents. Isabelle started crying, already trying to crawl towards her mother. And with the slow-moving baby making her way across the deck, he saw his dreams move with her.

"Give it up, Sloane!" Jack roared. "You've nothing left to gain by doing something stupid."

Sloane smiled at Jack, his eyes as dark as coals. "This isn't over, Bauer. We both know this." He tugged Nadia backwards, the blade at her throat. He pressed it so the edge bit into her flesh, a line of blood running down her throat. "I have yet to hit the jugular or carotid, Jack, but we both know I can slit her throat and be over this railing without much trouble. The war with China will fulfill the prophecy, and all of your heroics will have been for nothing."

Jack's gaze didn't waver, and his weapon stayed level. Inside, his guts were wavering. Another woman he loved, again threatened, and ready to be slaughtered. He had meant everything he'd said to Dixon. There would be no way that he would allow Nadia to be harmed. No matter the cost. Losing Teri had almost killed him. Losing Nadia would destroy whatever was left of him.

"What if you took your virus, then leapt over the side, and leave Nadia with us?"

Arvin blinked, then he smiled, looking more than mildly deranged. If Nadia could see it, she would have known it from the moment right before an entire floor of glass had dropped out from underneath him. "You still have my virus?"

Bauer nodded.

"Do you believe that I would fall for that? That you would willingly give it to me."

"Think it through, Arvin. You're going to have to regroup, get more men and resources before you can try anything more."

Sloane shook his head. "And what, Agent Bauer, you would use it to distract me, then disarm me? I don't think that will work for me. Do you?"

Sydney spoke up from his other side, stepping slowly towards Isabelle. "What about Marshall? Would that work for you?"

Arvin cocked his head. "Why, yes, I think it would."

Sydney reached up with one hand to touch her comm. "Marshall, we need you up front."

*

Marshall gaped, stupefied at the prospect of giving Arvin Sloane a biological super weapon.

Kim grabbed Marshall and shook him, snapping him out of it. "Marshall, think. You can do this. All you need to do is walk from here to there, all right?"

"Then what?"

Kim frowned. "Then we'll think about it."

"That's not helping."

"Yeah, I know." She reached down, grabbed the case with the Rimbaldi virus-filled needle, then pressed it into Marshall's hands. "I'm just wondering what went wrong."

"What?"

Kim sighed, almost growled in frustration. "Go ahead. I'll explain."

Marshall nodded jerkily, then took off towards the bow.

"Remember how I mentioned that Rimbaldi was like _Star Trek_, almost testing us?"

"Mmmhmm," Marshall grunted, unable to run and talk at the same time.

"Let's say he was. He was seeing if the good guys could prevail over evil. He always gave us the weapons to disarm everything."

Marshall slowed down, unused to running so fast. He caught a few gulps of air. He may have been halfway up the ship. "And?"

"He hasn't given us _anything_."

"True. Gotta run, Kim."

Kim Bauer waited, stewing over the problem, until she saw Marshall's heartbeat reach her father's.

Marshall slowly moved past Jack, taking slow, and timid steps towards Arvin Sloane.

"Give it to me, Marshall, and I won't have to kill anyone," Sloane said in a voice he thought was reassuring. "Give it to me, _now_."

Kim blinked. "No, that's not..." She touched her comm. "Marshall, remember your son's toy this morning. It was on a dartboard. Bullseye on the dartboard."

"Mmmmm-HHMMM," Marshall grunted, hoping it sounded like he was out of breath.

"Throw the dart!"

Marshall's mind caught up to Kim's in a split-second as all of the pieces clicked together. He reached into the case slowly, his fingers trembling as he did so. He carefully grabbed the syringe full of virus, and brought it up. "This is yours," Marshall said, his voice quavering.

"Yes, Marshall. That's good. Now, give, it, to, me."

Flinkman nodded slowly, taking into account the wind, the distance, room to maneuver, and what part of the dartboard to hit.

And then, Marshall Flinkman threw the syringe like a dart into Arvin Sloane's right leg.

Sloane flinched. The knife was held in his right hand, the hand that came down to pull out the dart from his leg.

There was no time to consider the ramifications. No time to think about it, period. Nadia, not even hesitating, brought her knee up to her hip height, looked down, and then drove her foot backwards, into the plunger.

Agent Santos snapped her head backwards, into her father's nose, then dove forward and rolled away from him.

Sloane stood there a moment, his face astonished, and then smug again. "You made it away from me, very good. But it changes nothing." He back away towards the rail, and then blinked as his legs gave out from under him. He grabbed the rail, desperately holding onto it. He reached up to his nostril, and came away with blood on his fingers.

"No... this...can't be. Rimbaldi..."

"Had a failsafe," Marshall said. "He always gave us ways to diffuse plots he started." He smiled, a flicker across his lips that was uncertain whether it should even start. "He usually wrote everything out, but in this case, we already had all the tools. Including a virus that will be designed to specifically kill one person when mixed with his DNA."

"A weapon wielded by a Chosen One," Sydney said, realization dawning.

Sloane's eyes widened, his features lost at the prospect that Rimbaldi, his own obsession, had betrayed him. "But... I had a destiny."

Arvin blinked a few more times.

Nadia had seen some pretty incredible things involving Rimbaldi, but not even she was prepared for what happened next. Sloane took one last huge intake of breath, and then his skin went pale. Not white, translucent. For a few seconds, she could see all of his organs and muscle and blood and bone

Then it faded and suddenly his skin was burning, she could practically smell roasting meat.

Then that was over and his skin began to simultaneously decompose and putrefy. His entire body began to sink into itself.

Less than thirty seconds after she had injected him with it, Arvin Sloane was nothing more than an evaporating puddle of liquid.

Nadia went so still that she didn't register the sounds of the helicopter hitting the water or another motorboat pulling up alongside.

Despite the comfort of holding her daughter, she wasn't prepared for what was in the water.

Irina Derevko was dead.

*

Jack knelt down to Nadia's side, ignoring the bodies and carnage around them.

"He's dead," Nadia said numbly. "Nothing but remains," she said dully.

And then she let out a scream of pain that Jack would never forget.

**5:53:37/5:53:38/5:53:39/5:53:40**

Kim made it to the bow, and said to Marshall, "When he said to give it to him, I thought it was a good idea." She looked over the remains. "So that's it? This was the last stand of Arvin Sloane? The apocalypse has been averted?"

Marshall nodded towards the sun. "Sun's rising. The world is still standing…Isn't it?"

"Dixon's on the phone with the President. He thinks if we can produce evidence Sloane is dead, given the circumstances, the Chinese will be willing to arbitrate."

Marshall blinked. "What circumstances?"

"Yesterday was a bad day for us, but the Chinese were guilty of failings far worse. Working through our diplomats, the President managed to shore up support with a majority of the delegations at the UN."

"When did this happen?"

"A few minutes ago."

Marshall nodded. "So Sloane could never have pulled off Armageddon after all."

"Knowing everything we do about Sloane, do you think he would have let any of that stand in his way?"

Marshall paused. "Honestly? I don't want to think about it anymore. All I want is to go home, kiss my wife, hug my kids, and count myself lucky."

"I get that," Kim said with a smile.

Sydney and Vaughn were carefully handing Isabelle up to the men on the first Coast Guard vessel.

Sydney was climbing up, when she stopped mid-rung.

"Syd?"

"It just hit me for the first time," Sydney said in a chilled voice. "Both my parents are dead. Gone… forever."

Sydney was beginning to shake. She was not crying, but it was only a matter of time. Vaughn acted fast and pulled her up the rest of the way. "I know, I know—"

"It's not enough." Syd managed to say. "I don't care if we saved the world. I don't care if Sloane's gone. All I want—is another five minutes—with my father—"

Vaughn, who had had similar wishes many times over the years, could only nod..

"What am I supposed to do now?" Sydney shouted at the heavens. "Go back to work, chasing the next threat, whatever new boogeyman is haunting us?"

"You don't have to," Vaughn said. "You got Sloane, you lost your parents. All debts you had with agency are paid. Say the word, and we can move to that island tomorrow."

Sydney turned to her husband. "Seriously?"

"I wouldn't joke about this," Vaughn said. "But right now, what we all need is to rest. To go home, love our daughter, honor the dead, and find a place in the world that doesn't involve so much pain."

For a moment, Syd stopped. "When did you get so poetic?"

"Taught English once, remember?"

And even though that memory was part of an especially painful moment, they both smiled a little.

"You should talk to Nadia," Vaughn said. "You're going to need each other."

"I will," Sydney promised. "but… some pain you have to handle on your own."

"You sure about this?" Jack said into his cell.

"We found the pilot of your chopper out cold on the dock," Dixon told him.

"We chained Sark to the struts!"

"He's gone, and so is your helicopter." Dixon asked.. "I've already got the search teams looking."

Jack was looking at Nadia. "Leave it for now. Sark has his deal. He'll wait." Jack then hung up, and walked back over to Nadia.

"We can go now."

Nadia kept her eyes on the ever-brightening horizon. "My parents both died here," she reminded him.

"I know."

"I killed my father." Nadia added. "And it's not like either of them ever loved me...So why can't I just walk away?

Jack touched her arms, and rubbed them. "Because you have the compassion that neither of them possessed. Because whatever sins our parents commit, they're family."

"Sydney is family, too. Her father is dead because of mine. Could you forgive?"

"She knows what a monster Sloane was," Jack assured her. "And if there was any way for her to take the pain that you're feeling, she'd do it. So would I."

"Are we going to have to take this boat in?"

"Eventually."

"Do me a favor," she said. "When they're done with it, have them burn it down, and soak the ashes in lye. I don't want a bit of him to remain anywhere."

Under other circumstance Jack might have been alarmed at her coldness. The truth was, he wanted to do the same thing. "I'll see to it."

Nadia walked towards the deck. "Let's go," she said. "Far, far away."

Neither of looked back at Sloane's remains, even as they continue to evaporate in the last of the morning sun.

**5:59:57/5:59:58/5:59:59/6:00:00**


End file.
